Monsters and Humans
by Arawn D. Draven
Summary: Abused and treated like a slave by his relatives, avoided by everyone else, Harry James Potter grows up hating Humans for treating him like a Freak. Knowing just how horrible people can be, is it a surprise that when he is given the opportunity to take his revenge, he takes it? Rated M for mature content such as gore (it's Hellsing after all), as well as abuse and child rape.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is based on a challenge from moonandshadows:**

**Guidelines:  
-Harry is raised by millennium. (Accepted-sort of)  
-Harry stops being human (I'll leave the how and why to you as well as what he becomes) (Accepted)  
-Harry has a realistic either dislike or hatred for humanity(realistic because he can give real explanations for it, not just because they are weak). (Accepted)  
-Can include more crossovers than just hellsing. (Denied)  
-Not a one shot. (Accepted-Short story-5 Chapters planned)  
-I leave the rest to you.**

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**I don't own Harry Potter or Hellsing.**

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**WARNING: mentions of child abuse, child rape, and other disturbing contents. Do NOT read if you are of a weak heart. You are warned.**

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**Prologue**

**Meeting the Monsters**

It was a rather normal night of November in Surrey, England. Since it was late in the year, even though there was yet to be snow, the temperatures often dropped below zero degrees Celsius, and as such it was quite habitual for the inhabitants of Privet Drive to wake up to the sight of their lawns covered in a thin layer of frost that would melt later in the day. A cold wind blew over the street, making the already cold temperature even lower, and causing a small figure to shiver violently as the clothes on its' back were far too thin to allow the person to retain any form of body heat.

Harry James Potter was a rather small child, with the height of a five years old when he was actually seven, something that was due to the fact that his body lacked the nutriments to allow him to grow properly. This wasn't surprising, as his relatives, whom he lived with, didn't see any reason to feed him more than once a day, his unique meal consisting of an old slice of bread, as well as an old fruit it he was lucky. When he was _extremely_ lucky, he may even get to eat some bacon if Dudley found it overcooked, though he didn't dare deliberately overcook the Dursleys' breakfast, as he didn't want his Uncle Vernon to get angry at him. He got hit enough when he didn't make mistakes, he didn't want to get hit even more, even if it was to be able to eat bacon. Besides, he had found where the school dumped the food the children didn't eat, so once or twice a week, he went to get some more food, and he often found still-packed cookies and food past the expiration date, but he didn't care. Ever since he had found that place, he had been able to go some days without being too hungry, as he was careful to make some reserves of food that would last until his next visit. Of course, he made sure to not be followed, as he knew that his cousin, Dudley Dursley, would immediately rat him out to his parents if it got him into trouble, and Harry didn't want to get in trouble.

He was aware that the way he was treated wasn't normal, and when he had asked his Uncle why he was treated the way he was, the only answer he got was that Freaks weren't to be treated like normal people. Now, as a result of his very solitary childhood, Harry was a very intelligent child, spending his time reading whenever he could, as he was aware that he needed to be able to fake his results so that his relatives didn't get angry with him for getting better grades than their perfect "Duddykins". It was also a way for him to remind himself that the world was far bigger than the miserable place he had to live in, that there were billions of people out there with lives that sometimes were even worse than his own.

Due to the treatment from both his relatives, the other children in school, and his teachers, Harry had grown to hate people, as they always treated him badly, regardless of the fact that he never did anything bad, unlike Dudley, and yet _he_ was the one mistreated, scorned, and mocked. He knew that a child his age shouldn't feel that way about people, but quite frankly he didn't care. Why wouldn't he hate those that mistreated him? Animals didn't fear him, he knew that, if anything, they seemed to like him more than the average person, so why did humans hate him so? In the end, he hated everyone on principle, as he had too often been let down when he tried to trust strangers, so now he stayed alone, and it was fine with him. At least when he was alone, nobody mocked him, nobody hit him.

In the end, he decided that he would never trust any humans again, as when he had tried to tell a teacher about how he was treated back at his relatives' place, the man hadn't believed him and had called the Dursleys, which had ended up with him being beaten and thrown into his cupboard, without food or water, for five entire days. He had almost died then, and he had resolved himself to never trust a human again. People were just too fickle, too interested in their own, comfortable lives, too self-centered for him to find any worth in them.

As he curled up on himself, praying that he would survive the night, he swore to himself that one day, he would make humans _pay_ for what they had done to him.

**-Break-**

He was let inside the house early next day, as his Aunt Petunia expected him to cook breakfast for the family, as if he hadn't spent the night outside, freezing, and that he wasn't shivering violently due to the cold. He didn't voice his complaints, though, he had learnt a _long_ time ago that doing so only made his Aunt and Uncle angry, and more likely to hurt him. He had no idea _why_ they hated him as much as they did, but in the end it mattered little, as he'd be happy to never know the reason if only they started treating as an actual human being, though as time passed, he thought of himself less and less as a human, and more as a freak.

"Hurry, you good for nothing waste of space!" shrieked the horse-faced woman, none of the fake kindness she showed the neighbors in sight. "Duddykins has a test today, and he can't do well if he hasn't eaten well!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." came his monotone answer, as he knew that showing any hint of emotion was likely to end him in trouble, no matter how much he wanted to yell that the odds of _Dudley_ having a good grade on his own were lower than the ones of them all dying after being struck by a meteorite.

How Petunia and Vernon couldn't see that their son was a complete idiot was beyond him, as even with the teachers telling them that Dudley was one of the worst students of the school they denied what was in front of them, saying that it was just that the teachers didn't know how to teach him properly, that the other children bothered him and prevented him from showing his true potential. Said potential was, in Harry's mind, well hidden, if he could give advice to the both of them, he would have suggested training their son to eat as fast as he could, as _that_, at least, was something he was good at.

Taking out the bacon, he set to prepare the usual amount of food for Vernon and Dudley, which was about what three healthy people would eat in a day. But no, the two _pigs_ kept eating greasy food as if they weren't already fat enough, both of them being vastly overweight. The only one who seemed to be somewhat healthy in the house was Petunia, since Harry looked as if he could do with a good meal, yet was never treated to one, his teachers having all bought the stories his relatives had told them about it being a special condition in his family.

As he prepared the food, his concentration slipped, as he had not slept well due to the cold, his blood sugar was far too low to allow him to focus correctly, and the cold, which had yet to fully be fought off by his body, made his moves sloppy. As such, when the pan slipped and sprayed boiling grease over his arms, he was too slow to avoid it, and screamed in pain as he was burned, while Petunia shrieked, her pristine kitchen having been soiled by the food, and that Vernon marched over to the prone form of his nephew, who was clutching his arm in pain and sobbing.

"YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING FREAK!" he yelled, "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, WASTING OUR FOOD LIKE THAT?!"

By then he had lifted his much smaller nephew by the collar, holding above the ground as he thundered, spit flying everywhere from his mouth, and a vein throbbing on his forehead. He was shaking Harry violently, making the already sickly boy even sicker.

"YOU THINK IT'S ALRIGHT TO WASTE FOOD, FREAK?! DO YOU?! THEN WHY DON'T YOU SEE HOW IT FEELS TO SPEND A WEEK WITHOUT FOOD! THAT'LL TEACH YOU THE VALUE OF THINGS!"

Unfortunately for Vernon, Harry, who was already feeling quite unwell, only had one thing in mind: getting his beefy relative to release him. As he wished to be free of his Uncle's clutches, he found the large man suddenly thrown against the wall with great force, causing quite a few of the objects decorating the room to fall on the ground as the shock dislodged them from their positions.

He then lost consciousness.

**-Break-**

When he came back to himself, he could immediately tell something was wrong. After all, he didn't recognize where he was, as he had spent far more than enough time inside his cupboard to recognize it, and he was _not_ in his cupboard. After what had happened, he _knew_ that Vernon would have made sure he couldn't leave the small room under the stairs until he felt that Harry had _learnt_ his lesson.

He was currently staring at a metallic wall, and there was a small pitching, as if he was on a boat. He tried to get up, but found that he couldn't move, looking down he saw that his arms and legs were bound by ropes, and when he tried to curse he realized that to top it all, that he was gagged. Feeling panic rise in his chest, he desperately tried to free himself, as he had the inkling that something _bad_ would happen to him if he didn't escape soon. Vernon may have been a bastard, but he had never done something like this, and in Harry's experience, whenever the Dursleys did something to him for the first time, it was something he really didn't want to know.

A particularly violent shift of the room he was in sent him to the floor, tears of pain welling in his eyes as he hit his head, hard, on the metallic floor. Looking everywhere around him, he found that he was in some kind of boat's hold, where several wooden crates were stored. While this was bad news, as it meant he wasn't at the Dursleys' anymore, it also meant that Vernon had done something to put him there. He didn't know what, and considering the large man's thought process, he really didn't want to know either, all that mattered to him at the moment was to free himself.

Wriggling until he was next to one of the crates, he proceeded to rub the ropes against the edge, hoping that it would be enough to slowly cut his bindings. Any other child would have abandoned the idea after only a few minutes, but Harry having been raised the way he had been at the Dursleys, he had far more patience, as well as an eye for the details, allowing him to see that while it was slow, he _was_ cutting the rope. With renewed enthusiasm, he set to free himself, hoping that nobody would find him. Vernon had warned Dudley once, about child trafficking, and while he certainly hadn't wanted Harry to listen, the young boy had been just around the corner of the house, tending to Petunia's flower beds, and had listened avidly. Needless to say, Harry found the situation to be a bit too close to what Vernon had described to be comfortable with it.

With a last effort, the ropes fell, and Harry immediately went to free his legs, before taking off the bit of cloth gagging him. He'd done it in that order in the case someone came across him trying to free himself, as he would need his legs to be free if he wanted to run, while he didn't think that screaming would be such a good idea, especially if he was indeed on a boat owned by people involved in child trafficking.

_What do I do know?_ he wondered. He couldn't very well stay where he was, someone was bound to come check on him, and he didn't think they'd be too happy with his escape. He needed to hide, that much was certain, but for how long _could_ he hide? He didn't know _anything_ about the boat he was on, while those working on it must know every hidden corner of it, not only that, but how could he even _survive_ the travel? He had no idea how long it would be before the boat arrived to its' next destination, and while he was used to survive with little food and water, he _did_ need some.

So he resolved to explore the boat, while being very, _very_ discreet, as he had no wish to be caught.

**-Break-**

Harry knew exactly when his escape was found out, as the crew member who found out walked right next to his hideout, a small, very small space between some crates, cursing up a storm. While he couldn't quite place the accent the man possessed, the words he used seemed Spanish, or at least Harry thought so. He carefully munched on the morsel of food he had been able to sneak out of the boat's kitchen, as well as the water bottle with it, before curling into a ball and trying to get some sleep. He didn't need to worry about being found out when he slept, as the Dursleys had managed to make it so that he had a very light sleep, as well as very silent.

**-Break-**

Harry tiptoed around the boat. It was currently nighttime, which was the reason why he was out and about. He had finished his food, as well as his water, and as such, needed to get more. Since it was night, he figured that now was the best time to sneak into the kitchens, as while some of the crew members would be up, the odds of them spotting him with the low light were slim at best. Having being used to spend a lot of time in a dark cupboard, he on the other hand was quite used to darkness, and sneaking around was something he had done since he was four.

He carefully listened to the sounds around him, trying to spot anyone that might be hiding, just in case one of the people on the boat had gotten the idea to keep an eye on their food supplies. He _knew_ that it was only a matter of time before they noticed that some of their food was missing, which was why he had decided to take as much food as he could, hoping that it would last him long enough to escape the boat he was on. He didn't know how to swim, as the Dursleys had never seen fit to have him learn, which meant that the only way he could escape was by sneaking out while the boat was docked.

Finding no suspicious sounds, Harry carefully opened the door to the kitchens, and made sure to hold the door when it closed. He didn't need the sound to attract the entire crew. He wrinkled his nose at the poor state the kitchens were in. As someone who had been raised by a clean-freak, he wasn't used to the greasy floor, the stained cooking appliances, or the permanent smell of food. He didn't know _what_ was cooked regularly there, but he certainly had no intention of discovering it.

Tiptoeing to the reserves, Harry paused once more, checking for anyone who might have had the idea of taking a late snack. The last thing he needed after hiding successfully for so long was to be discovered by being careless. Once he was certain nobody was around, he sneaked inside the room, making a beeline for the only food he was willing to take: those which were vacuum packed. Any other food might be expired, and while he could eat it, what with being used to it thanks to the Dursleys, he'd rather not take any risks.

However, before he could take anything, he felt large, sweaty hands close around his body, while a stinking piece of cloth was forced over his nose and mouth. He tried to fight whoever was holding him, but he was only a child, a malnourished one at that, and his aggressor was an adult, one who was apparently quite strong as not even Harry's kicks in his legs did anything to make the man move. As he breathed, he felt himself grow drowsy, and realized that the piece of cloth must have been imbibed with some form of soporific substance.

Struggling harder in the hopes of escaping, he soon found himself too tired to fight off the sleep, and fell unconscious, despite his struggles to stay awake.

**-Break-**

The next time Harry awoke, he was bound again, though from looking around him, he could tell that he wasn't in the boat anymore, as the walls were no longer metallic, but instead made of what appeared to be concrete. He was laying on a filthy cot, his arms bound behind his back, and his legs secured to each other by ropes, while his ankle had the cold metal of a pair of cuffs around itself, the other secured to a metal bar that stuck out of the wall. He was not gagged this time, but he was not stupid enough to scream, as he guessed that if he wasn't gagged, it was probably because even if he _did_ scream, nobody would come to help him. He didn't even know where he was, so it was better to wait and see what would happen. Of course, he wouldn't be staying idle, as he tried to at least free his hands, however unlike last time, there was nothing for him to use to cut the rope, as the only furniture in the room was the cot.

Panic gripping his heart at the situation he was in, Harry forced himself to calm down. Panic had never helped him, all it had ever gotten him was more trouble. Whenever he had panicked when Dudley and his gang were running after him, he always ended up tripping and getting beaten up. However, when he was able to think with a clear head, he managed to escape them, either by hiding or by distracting the group. This was no different.

At least that was his thought process until the door of his cell opened, letting in a grinning, slightly overweight man. He was wearing a brightly colored button-up shirt, along with several golden necklaces, and as he spoke, Harry could see that several of his teeth were in fact made of gold as well. He had a rather bushy mustache, and sunken, beady eyes, as well as short, black hair.

"Eh? Awake already, _menino_?" he asked, his voice loud and gravelly. "_Muito bem_. Let's see..." he mumbled, grabbing Harry's cheeks and twisting his face from one side to another, uncaring of Harry's muffled protests.

"Hmmm... _Un puco mais fino_, but not too much... Nice hair, good eyes, great color...I'll see if I can find some better glasses, the _traça_ look might be good for you, _menino_...You'll attract a lot of customers. But first, we need to train you well, _menino..._"

Harry could only shiver in fear at the look the man was giving him. He couldn't quite place it, having never seen it before, but it was close enough to how Vernon looked at some young women to scare him. Then his eyes widened when the man started to unbuckle his pants, and started to walk his way, grinning all the while, his bits dangling with each step. He tried to move away, however he was bound and couldn't move much. He could _smell_ the man from where he was, sweat mixed with some very heavy cologne clinging to the man's frame like the smell of rot clung to a corpse.

Then a large, sweaty, and _smelly_ hand touched him.

_No! Nonononononononooooooooooooooooo!_

**-Break-**

Harry stared at the ceiling, unmoving. His eyes, already showing far too much maturity when he had stayed at the Dursleys, were now completely empty. He was completely naked, his eyes red with dried tears, his nose with snot, and his pale skin was oddly red, especially his behind, from where dripped some clear liquid. His breathing was slow, almost unnoticeable, and he was no longer bound, though the chain around his ankle was still present.

If one had been able to take a peek at his thoughts, they would have immediately withdrawn from his mind due to the massive alteration it was currently undergoing. Even if so far Harry had hated people, there had still be a tiny, extremely dim hope that he could have, one day, grown to appreciate the comfort of human contact again. Now, however, his mind had broken, having been strained far too much for a child his age, leaving him as a living corpse with no more morals, no more reasons to tolerate humans, and no more reasons to cling to life like he had done so far. All of his old self had disappeared, replaced with a burning hatred for everything human, be it man, woman or child, as well as the need to _hurt_ whoever he met before _they_ hurt him.

What Harry didn't know, was that he was a wizard, and that the scar he had on his forehead, instead of being the result of a car accident like the Dursleys claimed, was a result of a curse cast on him when he was still a baby, a curse cast by a madman trying to kill him. Unfortunately for said madman, _something_ had protected Harry, and the curse had rebounded. The result had left the Dark Wizard Voldemort as a wraith, only living because of the parts of his soul that he had stored in several artifacts to anchor himself to the plane of the living, while Harry became the unknowing recipient of a tiny piece of the man's soul. Until that day, the piece of soul had been somewhat isolated from his body and soul, clinging to it while being kept at bay by Harry's own magic and unconscious will, which recognized the piece of soul as something that didn't belong where it was. Now, after having suffered from the trauma of rape, and having a complete mental breakdown, nothing was left to stop the piece of soul from attaching itself to him, from fusing with his own soul, as his magic was working overtime to keep him from going completely mad.

As such, when the piece of soul of Lord Voldemort latched on the unstable soul of Harry Potter, it began fusing with it, using what resources it had to "repair" its' container. While Harry Potter didn't know he had magic, or how to use it, Lord Voldemort knew that he did, and knew how to repair the damage done to his body. As the small piece of soul fused with the much larger, but weaker soul of Harry Potter, it modified it, adapting it so that it would be more powerful, cleverer, and more suited to survival than the soul of an abused child. It got rid of any kind of remorse or guilt that would have popped up after harming another, and cultivated his hatred for all things human, for all who were weaker than him. The abused child that was Harry Potter died that evening, to be replaced with a cold-blooded monster that would stop at _nothing_ to get what it wanted, to get its' revenge against mankind for what it had done to him.

The process was slow, as Harry lay on the filthy cot unmoving, hours going by without him so much as twitching. Had any of the people present in the building thought of checking on him, they would have noticed a very faint glow coming from his body, magic working overtime to heal the broken child, repairing years of abuse far more effectively now that it could be used somewhat consciously, as well no longer needing to keep the soul piece at bay. Brittle bones were healed, internal scarring was reduced, failing internal organs were repaired at returned to peak efficiency. It was a lucky thing that Harry had managed to eat so much during his brief escape on the boat, as he would normally lack the energy to keep his magic working.

Eventually, Harry's eyes focused, and he batted his glasses away with an irritated huff, his eyes having been healed, meaning that he didn't them anymore. However, unlike before, his eyes were no longer emerald green, or at least, the left one wasn't. It was deep red, a crimson color that would remind anyone of the sight of freshly spilled blood. The other thing that had changed was that the cold look in his eyes, which showed his maturity earned from an abusive childhood, was now gone, replaced with a spark of malevolent, sadistic glee.

The chain that had held him secured to the wall fell to the ground with a clunk, while he stood up, looking around with a repulsed expression on his face. Waving his hand, he vanished whatever filth had coated his skin and body, taking extra care of the _semen _that remained on and inside him,before conjuring some clothes on himself. A dark grin slowly formed on his face, as he walked up to the door, blasting out of its' hinges and stepping out of the room he had been confined in. A man who had been walking in the corridor saw this, and took out a gun, pointing it at his face, and yelling at him in the same language that the man from earlier had occasionally slipped to. A lazy wave of the black-haired child saw the man torn to pieces, coating the corridor in his blood, though the sight didn't deter Harry at all, as he slowly walked across the puddle of blood, leaving bloody footprints in his wake.

The man's screams had, however, gotten the attention of several other people, who all took out their weapons and proceeded to check on what was happening. They got a rather nasty surprised when they saw a child, one of the last arrivals of their "establishment", with blood coating his feet, walking out of the corridor with the rooms designed for the training/conditioning of the children they received.

"_Parar, menino_!" bellowed one of the men, a rather tall fellow with a large, muscular frame, an open shirt, several tattoos on his arms, and who was holding a submachine gun pointed right at Harry's head.

Ignoring him, as well as the other men pointing weapons at him, the young wizard looked around. Now that he wasn't inside anymore, he could see that he was in what appeared to a large mansion, built around a central courtyard. It reminded him of some pictures he had seen of South American houses, those that belonged to the wealthy, and not the starving majority of the population. He could see several cameras, probably used both to make sure that none of the children escaped, and to keep an eye out for eventual intruders. He could easily disable them with a pulse of magic, but doing so would prove too tiring and wasteful at the moment. After all, dealing with the cameras could be done in many ways.

Looking back at the shouting men, who were _still_ leveling their weapons at him, he felt a sadistic grin stretch on his face. This was it, the time for retribution he had so longed for, the opportunity to unleash the pain and anguish he had suffered through on those who were responsible for it, on the beasts known as _humans_. He didn't care if he was a monster, he had always been called a Freak by the Dursleys, and since he had been punished time after time for being what they considered as abnormal, he might as well become the monster he was punished for being. Humans were wild beasts, beneath their "civilized" exterior, they were nothing but greedy, gluttonous _pigs_, and yet they had the hypocrisy to hide their true nature beneath a mask of civility.

As the shouting got louder, the men obviously irritated by the fact that a _child_ didn't listen to them, even if they had guns, he looked back at them, distractedly noticing that the man whom he wanted the most to kill wasn't present. These men, while obviously criminals, hadn't been the one to rape him, and even if he was going to kill them, they weren't those he hated the most.

_It doesn't matter_, he thought, _I will find him, and then _my_ screams will look like nothing when I am done with him_.

He grinned evilly. He was going to _love _this.

"Fiendfyre..."

**-Break-**

The Captain stared at the burning mansion, the screams of those trapped inside echoing in the night, and they would certainly have driven a lesser man to his knees, but his expression didn't change at all. He had been charged to come and eliminate the gang that used the mansion as a base of operations, since they hindered Millenium's operations in the area, and his work had apparently been cut for him.

One would wonder _how_ a single man was enough to take care of a gang rumored to count around fifty members, all with submachine guns and military-grade weaponry, however the Captain was _not_ an ordinary man, he was even anything _but_.

He was a tall man, standing over six feet tall, with a stoic expression that rarely wavered, and wore a faded green greatcoat, which he wore with the neckguard constantly turned up, hiding most of his lower face, while a M43's officer's cap, with the Totenkopf symbol emblazoned on it, cast a shadow over what little could be seen of his face. What little features could be seen were that he had silver hair, as well as crimson eyes.

Watching the fire, he sniffed the air, trying to find any survivors that he might need to take care of. He was very careful to always accomplish his missions to the best of his abilities, after all. His nose caught the surrounding scents, sweat, blood, which were already being covered by the acrid smell of burnt flesh and boiling blood, but he disregarded them, trying to find any smell that might indicate survivors-

"Who are you?"

Blinking, he looked to his right, finding a young boy staring at him, heterochromic eyes staring at him coldly, as if judging his worth. Focusing his sense of smell on the child, he smelled sweat, blood, some dried chemical that he recognized as a cheap soporific substance, as well as one smell in particular that he recognized, that made his eyes widen. It was a very nostalgic scent, one that dated back to the years of World War II, at the height of the war, when he had met the entourage of the Führer himself. He remembered very well the imposing man that the Führer had introduced as a close friend, one supposed to help them win the war. Who would have thought that he would meet another wizard, after all this time?

Unlike the man he had met, the child was certainly less impressive, standing at the average size of a five years-old child, yet his body structure clearly indicated that he was older than that. If he had borne the tanned skin and looks of the local people, it would have been easy to understand, as children were often malnourished in these parts, however his facial structure clearly pointed him as either American or European, both parts of the world where the amount of malnourished children was very low. Though considering what he had been briefed on about the activities of the gang he had come to deal with, it was possible that this boy came from an especially poor family that had sold him to erase some of their debts.

Showing his hands palms up to show that he did not mean harm, he examined the child. The fire that was currently devastating the mansion was clearly not natural, he could see and _sense_ it, yet from what little he knew of the world of magic users, such advanced feats were only for those with _decades_ of training in the arts, which this boy clearly didn't have, yet he seemed to be perfectly in control of the situation, as the fire didn't go further than the mansion, burning it to the ground, yet ignoring all the easily flammable wood surrounding it.

He idly wondered what he should do. On one hand, he doubted the Major would want him to bring back a stray, however on the other hand, this child was clearly not average, and could prove a very valuable asset to their plans. That, and the Doctor would be absolutely _thrilled_ to be able to examine a wizard up close. He had never been the same after he had learnt he wouldn't be able to dissect the Führer's friend.

Deciding that if the others didn't want the child to know about them, then he would simply dispose of him later, he made a beckoning gesture towards the boy, who was still staring at him with his oddly mismatched eyes. He was aware that he was intimidating, however he simply did not know how to look less imposing, and as such didn't squat or try to appear less threatening.

He was surprised when the boy spoke again, once more using English.

"You aren't human, are you?"

He was honestly surprised. Even if he _was_ more imposing, and exuded a different presence than the average human, few, if any, ever noticed it, and those who did usually chalked it up to their imagination running wild. This child was becoming more and more interesting by the minute. He seemed almost _eager_ to hear him say that he wasn't human, when in his experience, humans were usually afraid of those that weren't like them.

Slowly nodding, the was surprised when the boy relaxed and then walked up to him, looking eager to follow him. The way he looked up at him reminded him a bit of Schrödinger, though he didn't have the energetic or childish atmosphere the young cat-boy had around him.

"Well the, should we go?"

**-Break-**

Harry stared at the people present, or at least where he thought they were. He was actually standing in a small circle made out of light, while everything else in the room was bathed in darkness, hiding how many people were present or even what they looked like. He knew he wasn't alone, after all the man who had led him where he currently was had vanished in the shadows when they had entered the room, and from what little he could tell of his personality, he wasn't the one to just drop someone he had apparently taken an interest in and vanish, which meant that he was probably one of the people hiding in the darkness. All that could be seen were crimson eyes glowing in the dark, which he had to admit, spooked even him a little.

"Oh? It zeems ze Captain brought us back a guezt." came a voice. "Tell me, _junge_, why are you here?"

He shrugged. He didn't really have a reason for being there, he had simply had a hunch that he might find something interesting if he followed the man he had met earlier.

"Don't know. I thought I might find something interesting if I followed the man I was with earlier. He's not human, after all."

He could hear several whispers coming from people in the darkness, though he couldn't hear what they were about. However, he was honestly surprised when the man who had spoken earlier laughed, his cackle reminding slightly of someone else he remembered.

"Oh, it zeems ze boy iz clever! Tell me, what made you say zat?"

"I can do things most can't. Since it's unlikely I'm the only one able to do them, there's bound to be some other things people don't know about. That, and he was _smelling_ the air earlier. Considering there was a fire right next to him, the fact that he was able to smell anything other than the fire means that his sense of smell is considerably better than a human's."

The cackle came back, this time a lot louder. He didn't know who he was talking to, but it was clear that whoever it was, found him immensely amusing.

"_Wunderbar_!" laughed the man, "You are good, boy. But ze Doctor would like to see what you meant when you said you can do zings most can't. How about a demonstration?"

Quirking an eyebrow, he held his right palm open, creating a ball of fire in it, causing hushed whispers to break out once more. He was surprised when a very tall man, clad in a blood-stained lab coat suddenly appeared in front of him, causing him to reflexively blast the man away.

His action seemed to cause a ruckus as growls could be heard, before the man from he had blasted away reappeared, apparently fine, at the edge of the circle of light.

"My apologies." he said, his voice smooth, "I did not mean to startle you. I was simply enthusiastic to finally see a wizard again."

"Errr...Sorry about that. I don't react well to being surprised." Harry apologized. He usually _didn't_ apologize, but considering that these people may not be human, he felt that he could at least be civil to them.

"He's so cute!" squealed a female voice, startling him, "Major, can we keep him?"

"Zat remains to be seen. Tell me, _junge_, what is your name?"

"Harry Potter, sir."

"_Gut_. Now tell me, Harry Potter. Do you wish to join Millennium? The Captain has vouched for you, which is very impressive." asked the man who had been referred to as "Major".

"Will I be able to kill humans if I do?" he asked. After all, this was his goal, to take his revenge for all the misery humans had caused him during his life, so joining a group who may be dedicated to the _protection_ of mankind would be stupid.

Again, the Major laughed, and he wasn't the only one as other laughs could be heard in the darkness.

"_Wunderbar!_ Yes, Harry Potter, you will be able to kill humans. Millennium's goal is to wage eternal war, I am sure you will be satisfied zen."

"Then alright, I'll join."

He could almost _see_ the grin on the Major's face.

"Zen welcome, Harry Potter, to Millennium!"

At once, the light erased the darkness, showing him that he was standing in what appeared to be some kind of command room, with large screens showing transmissions from hundreds of different TV channels. He could now see that there had indeed be a lot of people present, most of them men wearing what he recognized as old, World War II Nazi uniforms, complete with armbands depicting the Svastika, all of them grinning at him, showing off teeth a little too sharp to belong to humans.

Where the voice of the Major had come from was a group of several people that stood out. The first one, and the one he guessed was the Major, was a man wearing a white suit sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair. Said man looked slightly overweight, with blonde hair and strangely, yellow eyes, that peered at him from behind a pair of round glasses, a sinister grin stretching his lips.

Standing behind his armchair was the Doctor, the man he had blasted earlier. Now that he could see the man clearly, it appeared that not only was he very tall, but also very thin, and the bloodstained lab coat he wore was open, showing a strange shirt that stopped above his stomach. He was wearing odd glasses, which appeared to be adjustable by using the different lenses attached to them.

On the other side of the Major was the man he had followed. Oddly enough, he had yet to utter a single word, and had made himself understood through gestures. It was easy to see that the Captain, as it was how the Major had called him, was very high in Millennium's hierarchy, as he stood next to who for now Harry assumed to be the big boss of the organization.

However, there were other people present, standing behind the Captain. One was a very tall woman, with tanned skin and short, spiky orange hair, and a muscular body. Oddly enough, her eyes were green, however her right one was so dark it was almost black. She had a large scythe swung over her shoulder, as if it was merely a toy and not a heavy weapon. However, her most striking feature were her tattoos. The entire right part of her body, that he could see at least, was covered in dark writing and tattoos, with a pentagram on her forehead and a large purple spiral on her right shoulder being the most prominent ones. She gave him a smirk, the cigarette in her mouth moving in accordance with the move of her lips.

Next to the first woman was another, this one very tall as well, however unlike her muscular colleague, she sported a rather thin build. She was wearing a suit, as well as glasses that, combined with her cheery expression, made her a rather amusing sight. She also had a large Svastika pendant around her neck, and was leaning on a very long musket while waving at him cheerfully.

Sitting in front of the Captain was a boy in his mid teens, with cat ears popping out of his head, who had a cheery face and seemed overjoyed at the prospect of Harry joining them. He was wearing what the young wizard remembered as the Hitler Youth uniform, meaning a yellow shirt, black shorts, as well as black knee high socks and black dress shoes. As far as he could tell, the boy's eyes were purple, though considering the lighting, they may have been blue.

Finally, a man wearing a suit and shuffling cards gave him a nod. He was rather tanned, showing that unlike the other people he had seen so far, he might have been from South America, or at least a tropical country. He was also sporting a fedora assorted to his suit, as well as white gloves, like many of the people Harry had seen.

Blinking, he jumped back in shock when the woman wearing the suit and carrying the overly long musket suddenly appeared in front of him and proceeded to hug him while cooing about how cute he was. She however stopped immediately when he tensed up, unused as he was to _pleasant_ physical contact. The Dursleys had never hugged him, and he had never had anyone to do so to him, most people avoiding him like the plague.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" cooed the woman, looking oddly concerned.

"...Sorry? I'm...not used to hugs. At all." he apologized.

However, he was relieved when she hugged him again. It felt...oddly nice, to have someone hug him. The fact that she now had a bloodthirsty smile on her face that promised pain that apparently wasn't destined to him was nice as well.

"It seems _Obersturmführer_ Van Winkle likes you, Harry." smirked the Major. "Perhaps ze ozers could introduce zemselves...?"

"Yes, Major!" shouted the people in the group, saluting.

"First Lieutenant, Zorin Blitz. A pleasure to meet ya, kid." waved the tattooed woman, grinning. "You and I are going to have a _lot_ of things to talk about." she added.

"A good day to you, _Mister_ Potter." drawled the suit-clad man, taking off his fedora and offering an exaggerated greeting as he bowed.

"Warrant officer Schrödinger, a pleasure. That fire ball was _soo_ cool!" grinned the cat-boy, as he seemed to bounce in place.

"First Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle!" grinned the bespectacled woman hugging him, "Ooohh! You're so cute!"

"...My name is not important, just call me Doctor." greeted the man clad in the lab coat as he adjusted his glasses.

Nodding a bit dumbly as he took in the names of the officers in front of him, Harry blinked when the Doctor made a beckoning gesture towards him.

"Well, I leave you to ze good hands of our dear Doctor, Harry." grinned the Major.

"Yes, sir." he nodded, before following the older man through a corridor. Said man's excitement was obvious as he took large strides that Harry had trouble following, even when running.

Eventually, they reached a door that the man pushed open, entering what appeared to be a cross between a laboratory, an operation room and a medical room.

"Sit down, please."

Doing as he was instructed, Harry sat on a stool, while the Doctor took out a syringe and immediately drew some blood from him, before setting it aside. He then proceeded to do a very thorough medical check-up on Harry, noting down several things while muttering to himself.

Finally, and after using some of the blood he had just taken to do some tests, he sighed and turned towards the young wizard.

"Well, you seem to be in rather good enough health, though there are quite a few things that don't add up. I guess that for now, we'll have to let them slide. Your blood sugar is a bit low, so I'll ask for some food to be sent to your room. Just be careful to not eat too much at once, otherwise you'll be sick."

He nodded. That wasn't something he wanted, having already experienced it when at the Dursleys.

"Good. Now, this will be all, for now. I have much I want to ask you, however for now I'd rather make sure you get back to full health before asking anything."

**-Break-**

Later, Harry sighed in pleasure as he rested on his bed. His room was rather Spartan, however considering that he had lived in a cupboard until Vernon had sold him, or given him or whatever to child traffickers, so he wasn't about to complain.

_Well then_, he mused, _I wonder what my life in Millennium will be like?_

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**Well then, here is the prologue. I hope I managed to show the reasons of Harry's hatred for mankind (indifference to his abuse, abuse from his relatives, and his rape after he was sold).**_  
_

**Hope you liked. And don't worry, I'm not abandoning or pausing The Bloody Ashikabi for the time I'm writing this.**


	2. Chapter 2- First Lieutenant Harry Potter

**And here I am with the first chapter of Monsters and Humans. I hope this chapter will show just how messed up Harry is. Harry is not only Dark in this story, but he is also Evil, and with good reasons. His childhood was Hellish, he was raped, and then the soul fragment in his head messed him up even further by eliminating anything that might make him "weak" by Voldemort's standards, i. e mercy, compassion, love. He can still like people, like shown in the future chapters and his interaction with the Werewolves, but he basically hates everyone else.**

**Anyway, hope you'll like this!**

**By the way, just to be clear: the soul fragment hasn't given him _Voldemort's memories,_ it focused on his _knowledge_,_ cunning, charisma, etc_...As such he knows the spells Voldemort did when splitting his soul, however anything about Voldemort's Horcruxes or his personal history has been lost.**

* * *

**I don't own Harry Potter or Hellsing.**

**Just this plot.**

* * *

**01**

**First Lieutenant Harry Potter**

Harry grinned as he ducked under another of the Captain's punches, throwing one of his own towards the Werewolf's stomach. However the silver-haired man simply jumped away, avoiding his strike. Of course, both knew that even if Harry's hit _had_ connected, it would have done nothing to the much stronger and more resilient older man, but the aim of the exercise was to have Harry able to fight on par with normal vampires without being one himself.

The young wizard had certainly grown since his arrival in Millennium, a decade earlier. Provided with proper food, his growth had come back with a vengeance, and he was one of the tallest members of the Nazi organization. At seventeen, he was also very fit, having being trained ruthlessly by the Werewolves, who would accept nothing but excellence from him, pushing him well past his limits yet allowing him to realize his full potential. His hair was now long, falling past his shoulder blades until it reached the middle of his back in silky raven waves, while his face had grown sharper, giving him an aristocratic look that made many teenage girls weak in the knees when he was around.

However, beneath his pleasant exterior, Harry was very much a member of Millennium, relishing in bloody battles, enjoying pain as a way to prove his existence. He cared not for anyone save his new family, which were all he needed. Their acceptance had given him the drive to excel, to push himself until he reached his full potential, and he would never be able to thank them enough for it.

He was hailed as a prodigy in the local magical community, when all he did was work relentlessly to better his knowledge of the magical world and his control on his own magic. He had gotten his NEWTs at fourteen, the youngest graduate of the school he attended, yet he cared little for the admiration of the masses of disgusting _humans_. The only reason he had learnt magic was because it was a boon to Millennium, a way to further their goals, a tool to be used. He cared little for what people said, what mattered to him was to help those that had accepted him, those that shared his goals, and to become stronger.

Besides, if people had known that he was delving in the Dark Arts, they would be far less willing to praise him. He wondered how the girls who swooned whenever he spoke would react if they knew he knew spells to peel a person's flesh off their muscles, curses that caused cockroaches to devour people from the inside out, hexes that changed their bones to white-hot metal? If they knew he had the most extensive collection about Dark Rituals of the country?

He was the only member of Millennium with complete access to the magical world, and he intended to use this advantage in full. He had already learnt he was a celebrity in the magical world, though thanks to the Goblins the news of his presence is South America hadn't spread as they had arranged for a new identity to be created for him in exchange for a good amount of gold. Apparently a man named Dumbledore had poked his nose in their business after that, but their threats of taking his gold if he tried to pry into their bank's secrets had been effective, and the man had apparently dropped the matter. Apparently only, because other people, here and there, had worked out information from the Goblins, all of it pertaining to _his_ account.

From what he understood the old man was supposed to be his guardian, however Harry did not recall ever seeing him, and after learning that the man, who looked like a color-blind version of Merlin, had been responsible for his life at the Dursleys while several families had asked to be allowed to adopt him, some of them close to his birth parents, he had developed a special hatred for the old man. To know that while he was treated like a slave, starved, kicked, Dumbledore had been reassuring the masses, saying that he was fine and safe made his blood boil, and he was not the only one who had sworn vengeance on the "Leader of the Light" as the man was called in Great Britain.

Rip Van Winkle had taken an instant liking to him when they had first met, and she had always been very protective of him, acting as a pseudo-big sister of sorts during his time with Millennium, as such it wasn't a surprise that she had been furious that her "little brother" had been shipped off to abusive relatives on the word of an old man, who had not even bothered to check on him. Of course, there were magical means to check on a person, however if such means had been used on Harry, then Dumbledore was definitively aware that his home life was far from perfect, yet had done nothing to change it. Harry almost pitied Dumbledore if Rip ever met the man, she, as a SS, had a lot of knowledge on how to torture someone, and he was quite certain that she would be _extremely_ happy to make use of that knowledge on the old man.

Anyway, even if Dumbledore managed to find information on him, there was nothing he could do to prevent him from accessing his money. Thankfully, Goblins had long since found a way to resolve problems pertaining to people having a vault in a different branch of their bank, meaning that Harry had only needed to make the trip to the English bank once to get a bag connected to his vaults, and that time he had the Captain acting as his bodyguard, which meant that there was little that could happen to him.

Since then, he had made sure to make good use of his money, investing it in several ventures of the non-magical world that seemed promising, and allowing him to double the amount of gold in his vaults after only three years. Computers were definitively something worth investing in. Of course, he also invested his money into Millennium, buying more recent equipment for everyone, as sadly, and despite the humongous amounts of money the organization had smuggled out of Germany at the end of World War II, they didn't use it, at all. Though now that they could use his vaults, they had allowed him to store the gold in them, since unlike the non-magicals, the Goblins didn't care where the money came from.

The Major had been relatively easy to convince when it had come to upgrading the equipment, after all the man was a warmonger, as well as a very cunning tactician. He would have needed to be a complete _moron_ to have his soldiers fight with anything but the best equipment he could procure, and weapons dating back to the end of World War II were no longer the best. Of course, they would do their job, however why not get more efficient weapons when you had the money to buy them?

So the standard equipment for the foot soldiers of Millennium changed from Karabiner 98k, MP40s, StG44s, stick grenades, panzerfausts and panzerschrecks, to more modern weaponry. They were now equipped with Mauser M98 bolt rifles, Heckler &amp; Koch G36s, DM51 grenades and Panzerfaust 90s, making them the equivalent of a private army equipped with the latest weaponry available on the market. Significant ameliorations were also brought to the zeppelins used by Millennium, which were made faster and more resistant to damage thanks to liberal use of brainwashed engineers that Millennium "borrowed" from some foreign military forces, as well as the liberal application of magic to further enhance their resistance, speed, and weaponry.

This, combined with Harry's tireless efforts to help the Doctor better the process of creation of artificial vampires, had earned the young wizard the rank of First Lieutenant when he was only sixteen, making him the equal of his fellow Werewolves in rank. Said Werewolves had also benefitted from his expertise in the magical field, Harry taking time to help them upgrade their abilities, since most of them relied on the application of magic.

Zorin, now that he had given her some books on illusion magic, had been able to bypass the major problem her ability of creating illusions had held: while she kept an illusion up, she had to concentrate, and depending on the number of people affected, there were times she was unable to move, her whole concentration being on keeping her illusions working. Now though, she was able to use some obscure principles she had found in one of the books he had given her to have her victims be the ones who kept the illusion up while she was free to move. This, and Harry had given the Doctor a few ideas on how to "upgrade" the tall woman, so that she would be able to materialize what she created, instead of staying at the pure illusion stage. After all, a simple trick with this kind of power would be to use an illusion, let the enemy break it, and _then_ send a _materialized_ creation to finish the person off.

Schrödinger, being who he was, had little need for more power, as he was more of a scout and messenger than a true soldier, however Harry had noticed that, despite not being a wizard, the young boy had more magic than the average person, meaning that odds were that he was a Squib, someone coming from magical parents who couldn't wield magic. As such, and with the Doctor's help, Harry had managed to give the energetic mascot of Millennium some form of telekinetic powers, which he had immediately used to play some pranks on the "top brass", the leaders (in name only) of Millennium, old men who had fought in World War II and were convinced that _they_ were the ones pulling the strings and not the Major.

Rip Van Winkle had gotten several upgrades as well, since her main weakness was that her ability to manipulate the trajectory of her bullets depended on her musket, that she had to reload _manually_ each time her bullet was lost. While very efficient against just about anything that normal people could throw at her, it was dreadfully inefficient when it came to magical animals or heavily armored vehicles. As such, Harry had borrowed her musket, and applied some magic to it to make it more powerful and less of a hassle to handle. Basically, he had tweaked it so that the bullets shot were unbreakable and self-repairing (just in case), while the speed at which they were shot went from 1 200 feet per second to a solid mach 7, making them able to shoot through just about anything. There as well, he had given the Doctor some ideas on how to improve her ability, and she was now able to control up to five bullets going at mach 3.

As for the Captain...The man had shown no interest in any form of upgrade, at all, so Harry had let it be. After all, he was already plenty impressive on his own. He was, after all, a _natural_ Werewolf, not one of the sickly abominations that wizards called werewolves and were closer to beasts than true werewolves. The Captain had the best of two worlds, the senses, speed, strength of an animal, with the reasoning abilities of a human, as well as regenerative abilities equal to the greatest vampire. So no, Harry did not think that the man needed any improvements.

He was satisfied with his life, and with what Millennium had planned for the future. After all, what they intended to do after settling their grudge with Hellsing, _if_ they were still alive, since it was likely that they would suffer quite a few losses to Alucard, was to wage eternal war. He could live with that, since it meant he would be able to enjoy himself and kill countless humans. His hatred for mankind had never vanished, and while he could freely admit that there were rare individuals that even _he_ could admire, the vast majority of the species was rotten to the core and needed to be disposed of. He held no illusions that he would never be able to eradicate mankind completely, after all humans were like roaches, surviving anything you threw at them, and even if he knew a way to exterminate mankind as a whole, that would leave Millennium without food, as animal blood was _not_ a possible replacement for _human_ blood.

Anyway, now that he was seventeen, a legal adult in the magical world, the Major had asked that he follow through the same procedure than the Werewolves, though the Doctor had asked for a month of tests on human subjects before he _did_ go through the procedure. After all, he had never had to transform a magical human in an artificial vampire before, and while he was confident in his ability to do so, Harry was too much of an asset to gamble his well-being. As such, he had asked for several "samples" to test the procedure on, and Harry had managed to find a few wizards and witches that he had knocked out before bringing him to the Doctor. They had been right to be wary, as the first subjects had died almost immediately, and it had taken both the Doctor and Harry several days to understand why: the procedure had been designed for non-magicals, meaning that they hadn't counted on their test subjects' own magic to counter what was done to them. It was a minor concern in Harry's case, since unlike the test subjects, he was very much willing to become a vampire.

So the young wizard would undergo the procedure by the end of the week, and he was getting very impatient to do finally join his family in their unlife.

**-Break-**

The first thing Harry noticed upon waking up was how _sharp_ his vision had become. He had always had good vision after that night where he had had to heal himself, but now he could see so much clearer it wasn't even funny. He could _see _a fly on the wall on the other side of the operation room, despite the fact that said room was basked in darkness, and even count the number of facets of said fly's eyes.

Gingerly sitting up, he groaned as he felt some remaining pain from his muscles. The process had enhanced them, sure, but there was always some lingering pain in the hours after the newly created vampires woke up. After all, tweaking the muscles of a normal human to make them as efficient as a vampire's put a huge strain on them, and even if the momentary pain was the only uncomfortable symptom of the transformation, it still wasn't exactly pleasant.

Flexing his fingers, he was satisfied when they all worked like he expected them to, as did his toes. At least there seemed to be no problem on that side. He trusted the Doctor with his life, but even him could make mistakes once in a while. Still, since everything seemed fine on the physical side, though he would test his new physical abilities later, he decided to try using some wandless magic.

He was aware that European wizards thought that the ability to use magic without a wand was reserved to the most powerful wizards, but the truth was that it simply required a lot of practice and some rather large magical reserves to start. After all, at first, using wandless magic was dreadfully inefficient and you ended up wasting ninety percent of the magic used to make the spell work. Only with large reserves was it possible to keep training without fainting from exhaustion at first. And by large reserves, he meant reserves like sixty percent of the adult wizards and witches in Brazil had. The fact that unlike their European counterparts, they didn't practice inbreeding too much meant that as time went by, the more recent generations had larger and larger reserves, which was the exact contrary to what happened in Europe if what he had heard was true.

Focusing his magic in his palm, he was nearly blinded when instead of the small, flickering flame he had expected, a fireball the size of his head appeared, blazing with enough heat to make him sweat.

"_Scheiße_..." he muttered, just before the fire alarms started blaring and that he was drenched to the bone by muddy water.

**-Break-**

Harry scowled as Schrödinger rolled on the floor, laughing uproariously, sometimes pausing and pointing a shaky finger at the newly turned vampire, before starting to laugh even louder. The fact that he was _still_ drenched probably didn't help, though he didn't dare try a drying charm after his accident with the fireball. If he created a fireball the size of his head while trying to create a small flame, he didn't want to think what would happen if he tried drying himself using magic. He had no wish to finish like a dried up prune simply because he couldn't control his magic well enough.

"Well zen, zank you for your report, First Lieutenant Potter." grinned the Major, looking amused as well. Though in his case, Harry suspected it was more because he had almost cooked himself alive instead of the fact that he was drenched.

At the man's side, the Doctor was scribbling down notes on what had happened, as all good scientist needed to record everything brought about by their experiments. The fact that instead of killing him during the process, his magic had grown far more powerful was certainly something he would want to write down for further reference. After all, unlike the Major, who only wanted to defeat Alucard no matter the means, and would then be happy to die so long as he was killed by an enemy, the Doctor was obsessed with the idea of surpassing Alucard. This meant that he would not be able to rest until he had created a vampire that surpassed the fabled No-Life King, and he doubted that it would be in the foreseeable future, while the Major's plans for Hellsing would fall in place in the next five years at most.

There was also the fact that Harry had yet to exhibit anything beyond a drastic rise in his magic's power or the increase in his body's abilities, which was strange in itself, since even the grunts had shown signs of developing their own unique abilities. Then again, he would need time to test everything he could now do, so he had time before he would have to wonder if something had gone wrong during the process.

Looking back to the Major, he saluted.

"Sir."

"_Gut, gut_. Now why don't you go and try your new abilities, First Lieutenant Potter?" waved the Major. "But perhaps a shower is in order, no?"

"Sir, yes sir!" he saluted, before leaving the room, passing by the still laughing Schrödinger. He had already planned on getting his revenge on the cat boy for that, but for it to work, he'd need to be able to control his magic, which meant that he had a lot of training to do.

**-Break-**

Once Harry was no longer there, the Major turned to look at the Doctor, grinning wildly.

"The _junge_ from ten years ago seems to have grown into a magnificent warrior, _ya?_"

"Yes." nodded the Doctor, pushing up his glasses. "His presence has allowed us to make immense progress on the process of creation of our vampires, while our troops are very satisfied with their new equipment. Add to this his own natural abilities, he is certainly one of our most important assets."

"_Sehr gut_. Now, what are the news from our spy in Hellsing?"

Taking out a remote, the Doctor pressed a button, making the screens in front of them come to life, showing records of a tall man wearing a crimson coat, a large red fedora, and odd sun glasses. His face was pale, and had aristocratic features, though said features were slightly distorted by the manic grin on the man's face. Other screens showed a woman with long, dark blond hair, wearing a black blazer and black pants. Like the man, she exuded nobility, and her whole posture and body language made it clear that she was a leader of men.

"It seems that they have not yet noticed that the vampires popping up in their country are artificial, though Alucard, at least, seems to sense that something is odd. He has not yet voiced his suspicions to his master, which means that we still have time before beginning our plans.

Our spy has also informed us that the leader of the British wizards, Albus Dumbledore, has contacted the Hellsing Organization in the hope that they would be able to help in his search for the Boy-Who-Lived. It appears that the Dark Lord that First Lieutenant Potter vanquished when he was a baby had not, in fact, died, and recently managed to regain his body. As such, the magical society appears to be putting a lot of pressure on their officials for them to find their "Boy-Who-Lived", since it seems that none are willing to fight this Dark Lord themselves."

At this, the usually jovial Major growled, clearly unhappy. While few things managed to upset him, he _despised_ cowards, seeing them as weak sheep, who never even fought for themselves, preferring to whine when they weren't satisfied, instead of trying to grasp what they wanted for themselves. To know that an entire_ society_ wanted a teenager to fight for them instead of standing up for themselves made him very angry.

"Major?" asked the Doctor, unused to see the usually composed man so expressive.

"_Es ist nichts_. Perhaps once First Lieutenant Potter is more used to his abilities, he could pay zem a visit? I heard zat he seems to despise zis Dumbledore. He was ze one responsible for placing him wiz his relatives, after all. I am sure First Lieutenant Van Winkle and Blitz would be happy to help him."

Nodding, the Doctor continued his report:

"This Dark Lord seems to be rebuilding his forces, or least this is what our spy was led to believe. He seems to be gathering groups of Fake Werewolves and Vampires to his banner, among other things. May I suggest that we ask First Lieutenant Potter to make contact with them? Their help could prove useful in our plans."

"_Ja_, _es ist eine gut Idee_. Zough ze Fake Werewolves are only useful on full moon nights. It would be best to only contact ze vampires. But if zey are not interested in our offers, zey will have to be disposed of."

**-Break-**

In the end, it took Harry almost a full month to get back a good grasp on his new abilities. The physical abilities he had gotten or which had been improved hadn't been all that hard, since the other Werewolves could help him with them, however when it came to his magic, they couldn't do much. Eventually, and after a lot of trial-and-error, he managed to get back his previous level of control, though in his opinion, the boost he had gotten after becoming a vampire was just ridiculous. He had to use less than five percent of the amount of magic he had previously used on his spells to get them to work as he wanted, and his Dark Arts spells especially those that were tied to demonology, had become almost laughingly easy to use.

He actually hadn't gained any new abilities, however considering how easily he had mastered his use of Dark Arts, there wasn't really a need for such. By using his magic, he could now blend at will in the shadows, morph body parts, or summon the dead. When he had told the Doctor, the man had been ecstatic, as these abilities closely resembled those of Alucard, meaning that his dream of surpassing the No-Life King was this closer to completion. Of course, Harry had heard of what the older vampire could do, and he was very much aware that while he was stronger than anyone in Millennium now, save perhaps for the Captain, he was nowhere near the power of the man who had attacked London on his own.

Still, to see just how powerful he had become had been very pleasant.

**-Break-**

Harry whistled as he walked through the streets of Washington. He had been sent there to deal with a member of the CIA who was beginning to stick his nose a bit too close to Millennium's businesses, meaning that he needed to be eliminated. Since so far Harry was the only one who had yet to take care of some pests threatening the secrecy of Millennium's existence, he was the one sent to deal with the problem. Of course, just in case, Schrödinger was told to keep an eye on him, as there was always the possibility, slim as it may be, that he was captured and interrogated. If such a thing were to happen, the Doctor would immediately activate a device that would cause his body to catch on fire and burn until only ashes were left. Of course, Harry did _not_ appreciate to have a death switch implanted in his body, which was why he had taken great care to isolate the tiny chip that launched the whole process by using his magic. He could fry it anytime, as while the Doctor had made it magic-resistant, the protection wouldn't be able to resist him purposefully flooding it with magic.

It was currently evening, and few people were still out and about, since the temperature was rather low for the season. He was in the street where the house of the agent he had to eliminate was situated, and he had already worked a plan of action with Schrödinger: once he got the man, and before killing him, he would search his mind for any files, folders, or piece of information that he might have left either at his office or with his colleagues. He would then send Schrödinger to get said information, and, if need be, kill the people who had it.

He was also looking forward to his time with the man, as a vampire he had learnt that human emotions heavily influenced the taste of their blood, so it had become something of a challenge to him to manipulate his victims until he thought they were ripe for being eaten. So far, he had to say that he found the taste of people desperate for their lives, mixed with some hope that they _might_ be able to live to be his favorite, though it was only his own preference. As far as he knew, Zorin enjoyed the blood of people who were despairing, something that she took great care to make her victims experience, toying with their memories until they had the right taste. Rip wasn't really picky, but she was a bit of a glutton, so rather than playing with her pray, she tended to eat a lot each time she had a meal.

_Oh yes, _he grinned, as he saw the man embracing his son and daughter through one of the windows, _this is going to be fun_!

**-Break-**

Harry laughed to himself as he inspected the house's security system. Oh, it was certainly top-notch, and he guessed that even accomplished hackers would have had trouble disarming it, however for someone like him, it was laughingly easy: he simply sent a pulse of magic made to fry the electronics, and the whole system shut down. It also would have had the side-effect of frying all the other electronics in the house, however he had trained his control extensively, and had made sure that his magic would only affect the security system by sending the pulse from one of the cameras.

With a jump, he was on the house's wall, walking up despite the fact that gravity should have prevented from even _standing_ on a wall, let alone _walking_. With a spring in his step, he used his magic to open the window of the son, slipping inside the room as silently as if he was a ghost. Looking around, he scoffed when he saw plenty of posters of children's cartoons littering the walls, and toys scattered on the ground.

_Idiot, losing your time like this..._

Then he grinned, walking up to the bed, and cast a stunner on the boy. With a grin, he then opened his mouth wide, revealing sharp fangs, and bit down on the ten years old child's exposed neck. Euphoria could not describe the taste of the sweet nectar that flowed down his mouth, as he greedily gulped the crimson liquid down, savoring the taste of a virgin's blood. Now that he had become a vampire, his sense of taste had changed, evolved, and allowed him to taste the slightest differences in savor in the blood he drank. For some reason, the blood of virgins was always much, _much_ better than non-virgins' blood, tasting like the most amazing ambrosia one could ever have.

As he sucked, he growled when he realized he had already drained the boy dry, the cold and lifeless corpse dangling from his mouth while his fangs were still buried deep in the tender skin of his neck. Releasing his hold on the corpse, he let it fall on the ground with a dull "thud" as his longer than normal tongue slipped through his teeth and cleaned the bloody smeared around his mouth.

_That was the appetizer, now for the main dish_...

From his intel, he had learnt that the man's daughter was fourteen, which meant that he was going to be able to enjoy raping her to his heart's content. He may have known what it felt to be raped, to have your virginity stolen, your dignity as a human being stained, however he simply did not care about humans anymore. They were his food, beings that existed for the sole purpose of being eaten and entertaining him, as such he had no reason to feel even the slightest bit of remorse for what he was going to do to the girl. Besides, now that he was a vampire, he was stuck with his hormones for the rest of his unlife, so he might as well take what fun he could.

Humming to himself, he exited the room, leaving a blood-stained bed and the corpse of a child behind.

**-Break-**

Harry sighed and looked at the girl, whose face was stained with tears and whose no-longer seeing eyes stared at the ceiling, while her face was frozen in an expression of pure terror. Her young body was nude, with a few strands of her pajamas still clinging to it here and there, and there was a large gash on her neck, where he had fed while he was finished raping her. The experience was made even sweeter by her desperate screams of help, that she couldn't have known couldn't be heard, as he had silenced the room. He had taken his time savoring the experience, breaking the girl, raping her, while whispering that her family didn't care about her, that her father had sold her to him, which was why he wasn't coming to help her. Once he was certain he had broken her, he had killed her, having had his fun, and he had savored her despair-tasting blood as she gave weak whimpers for someone to save her. Of course, nobody had come.

Of course, there had been no _need_ to be so cruel, he could simply have killed her in her sleep, like her brother, but why pass on a chance to have some _fun_? Besides, he wanted to see the face of the man he had come to kill once he learnt that he had killed his children and raped his daughter. _That_ was something he was going to enjoy, the face of a man who had lost everything, the face of a man who would sell his very _soul_ to be able to kill him, the person who had stolen everything precious from him.

_Well then, time to get to work_...

Walking up, he left the room, walking up to the master bedroom, grinning as he heard the faint noise of the same activities he had performed earlier with the daughter be performed by the father and the mother.

Kicking the door open, he grinned when he saw the two adults scramble away from each other, the woman trying to cover her modesty, while the man had already dived to get his gun. With a twitch of his fingers, he summoned said gun to him, ticking his finger as if he was reprimanding a disobedient child.

"T-t-t-t, Michael. It would be a bad idea to shoot me, really. By the way, nice house, I like it. Though your son's room should really have been better decorated."

"Who are you? And what did you do to my son?!"

Stepping into the light shed by the lamp, he grinned as he showed his bloodstained mouth to the couple.

"Let's say that your family is down to only you two, now. By the way, your daughter was screaming for you to help her earlier, I'm afraid she died thinking that her dad sold her to me. Though I do admit, it was fun to rape her."

With a snarl, the man launched himself at him, only to find himself flung back into the wall with a careless poke to the face. Even if Harry was nowhere near Alucard's power, that didn't mean that he wasn't very strong, even by vampires' standard.

"T-t-t-t. Do stay put, Michael. Just because I killed you son and daughter, _and_ that I raped said daughter before killing her, doesn't give you the right to be angry at me. In fact, if you want to be angry at someone, be angry at yourself."

By now, the mother of the two children he had killed was crying, and looked ready to bolt from the bed to check on her children, however, as he was standing in the way, she probably thought it prudent not to do anything.

"What do you mean?" croaked the newly named Michael, standing up, if a bit drunkenly.

"You were poking your nose where it didn't belong, so I was sent here to clean some things up." Faster than they could register, he took out his gun, pointed it at Michael's wife, and shot her straight through the head, her blood and grey matter splattering the wall behind her as her corpse twitched once and then slumped on the bed.

Looking at the man he had come to deal with, he gave him a wicked grin, showing his sharp fangs at the sight of the man who had tears in his eyes and was glaring at him as if wishing he would combust on the spot. He knew his actions were monstrous, he knew that what he had done, and _would_ do in the future was evil, cruel and wicked, but he did not care. He knew that by the standards of every society, every religion, what he did was _wrong_, but he had long ago forsaken society and any God that might exist. Society had never helped him, had never saved him from his Hell, and whatever God existed in the Heavens had allowed his suffering, never giving him any sign that what he had suffered through was for a purpose.

This was his way of answering. If society had forsaken him, then he, in turn, would forsake it, would break free of its' feeble rules made to protect the weak but were easily broken by those who held positions of power. If God had forsaken him, then he would forsake God, and make sure that his suffering was shared by those who blindly followed any form of religious code. Conflict was the only real truth of the world, those who won were the strong and those who lost were the weak, those who had no say in how the world should be run. Until the day he met a greater foe than himself, he would do as he pleased, and damn the consequences.

"Now then, Michael, how about we talk?"

**-Break-**

Harry hummed as he walked away from the house he had just visited, which was now burning, covering up his tracks. It would also eliminate the Ghouls he had created that night, and avoid ticking off the magical side of the USA. Unlike their European counterparts, they were far more efficient, which was precisely why he didn't want to have to deal with them just yet, not before he was done with the European wizards, and certainly not before he created his own force of artificial vampires.

The Major may have been a gifted orator and a genius tactician, he was also fixated on his vengeance against Alucard, against Hellsing, and what little he knew of the man's plans made it clear that everyone, every last soldier of Millennium was simply a tool to attain that goal: vanquishing Alucard. Harry had no problem with being used like that, so long as he agreed to the end goal, however, the Major fully intended to sacrifice everyone to fulfill his objective, and _that_, he did not want.

He did _not_ want to live only so that he could be sacrificed to further the Major's plans. He did _not_ want to die without enjoying his unlife, and he did _not_ intend to fall before Hellsing. This was why he had begun securing some resources for himself, gold, people, equipment, everything he would need to create his own private force of artificial vampires. The Doctor had been rather easy to convince, as working with him was not betraying the Major, it was simply changing employer after the Major got what he wanted. Since the Major apparently planned to die after having vanquished Alucard, the Doctor would then be able to defect and come work for him, since the man's goal was merely to create the ultimate artificial vampire, and that the plan the Major had to deal with Alucard was somehow cheating. After that happened, he was free to do as he wished. And what he wished was to teach mankind humility and to remind them of their place on the food chain.

He had good reasons to hate humans, what with how his "childhood" had been. He _knew_ that there were people who were good, however he was also painfully aware that those truly worthy of being called Human, with a capital "H", were one in a million, perhaps even ten million. For every Sister Teresa or Gandhi, there were millions of people motivated by greed, hatred, intolerance, or even mundane emotions like jealousy. He had seen how average people ignored blatant signs of abuse on a child, how they believed everything they were told, without thinking of ever checking if what they were told was true. He _hated_ humans for those reasons, and more. They were aware that they were slowly poisoning the very planet, yet didn't care, those in charge ignoring the signs in favor of earning more money for themselves, while the average person shrugged and said that they couldn't do anything. Which was why he planned to teach mankind a _bloody_ lesson.

The Doctor would be essential, as he was the only one who knew how to create artificial vampires, since even he didn't understand everything that was involved, though at the very least he knew the magical part by heart. He intended to create his own force of artificial vampires, and to wage eternal war on mankind. His plans went far further than the Major's, as he intended to make mankind remember why they feared the dark, why vampires had always scared and fascinated them. He would bleed the worldwide population dry, until there was but a fraction of mankind left. Or he would die trying.

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**Here, I hope you liked. As usual, reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**


	3. Chapter 3-Dealing with wizards

**And here comes the third chapter of Monsters and Humans, where Harry finally meets Dumbledore! I hope you'll like how things go!**

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**I don't own Harry Potter or Hellsing, only this plot.  
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**02**

**Dealing with Wizards**

Hermione Jean Granger was not having a good day. In fact, ever since she had learnt she was a witch, she couldn't say that she had _ever_ had good days. She had been so hopeful, so happy, back then when Professor McGonnagal explained everything to her parents. Explained that all the strange accidents that had happened over the years were caused by accidental magic, making her a witch, and making it so that she had to study at Hogwarts to learn how to control her powers. She could still remember the childlike excitement she had felt that day, to know that she would be learning magic, that she would be part of a world that only a select few knew existed.

She had seen it as the occasion to finally make some friends like her, to finally be known as someone else than the bookworm, the "rabbit", with her prominent front teeth. She had read book after book to prepare herself as best as she could for Hogwarts, and short of casting the spells detailed in her books, she had done everything to get ready. When she had sat to be Sorted, she had already decided that she wanted to be a Gryffindor, to follow in Albus Dumbledore's footsteps and become a great witch, just like he had become a great wizard. Of course, she was aware that Ravenclaw would have suited her more, but surely the Gryffindors would accept her, right? Right. Barely two months after coming to Hogwarts, she was nowhere near close to making friends, and the best reaction that she had from her Housemates was polite indifference. The girls didn't care about studies, preferring to speak about boys, make-up and such, and the boys were far too childish to hold an intelligent conversation. A few of them, led by Ronald Weasley, a redhead with atrocious table manners, even bullied her, calling her a know-it-all, mocking her inability to make friends.

In the end, because of this, she had almost died when a troll had wandered in the bathroom she had been crying in, and it was only because Neville Longbottom had warned a teacher that she had not died. However, even if she hadn't died, she hadn't gotten out of it unscathed either. Despite Poppy Pomfrey's skills in Healing, she would never be able to walk without a stick again. Yet despite this, Ronald Weasley had not been suspended, and had only gotten a few points docked and a detention. It was after that that she had contemplated withdrawing from Hogwarts, however she had learnt that if she was to withdraw, then her magic would be bound, and her knowledge of the magic world erased. In essence, a part of herself would forever be locked away, out of her grasp, and Pomfrey had warned her that the few cases of people she had known to make that choice had never led a fulfilling life, always feeling as if they were missing something.

So she had sucked it up, and decided that she would no longer allow herself to be weak. If the other Gryffindors (bare Neville) didn't want to become her friends, then she would do without them. She had thrown herself in her studies with a vengeance, however this time instead of focusing on theory, she made sure to master the practical aspect as well. Due to her handicap, she could not dodge incoming spells, which was why she had devised a way to draw magic from the air to complement her shields, making them far more resistant than average. She had expanded her repertoire of spells, making sure to learn how to defend herself, and only going to ask for teachers' help when she had no other choice, since she had learnt that the troll accident was due to something that all of the teachers were on. Considering what their actions had caused for her, she felt less than inclined to trust them, and even less Dumbledore, who seemed rather uncaring of what had happened to her.

Her years after her first didn't go much better. The Gryffindors had left her at peace after she had hexed them when they had tried to bully her again, however the Slytherins kept calling her a Mudblood, a disgrace of a witch, someone who on the social ladder of the Wizardry World, was only one step above non-magicals, who were seen as animals. She was considered a second-class citizen, despite her perfect results and impeccable school record. She learnt from some of her younger Housemates, whom she tutored on magic, that after Hogwarts her prospects for the future were bleak at the very least, non-existent at the very worst. It didn't matter that she was, by far, the best student of her year, even if the dumbest Pureblood on Earth was to want the same job than her, they would be hired and not her. At best, she could become an assistant in one of the Departments of the Minister of Magic, but she would never rise beyond that.

She had felt cheated, betrayed, and had stormed into her Head of House's office to ask for straight answers. McGonnagal not only confirmed what she had heard, but even admitted to intentionally leaving the subject out of her encounters with Muggleborns' parents because it would scare them away, causing the Ministry to seal their magic away. In the end, a Muggleborn had the choice between having a part of them sealed away, or to become a second-class citizen of the magical world. They couldn't even go back to the non-magical world, as their education in Hogwarts left them so far behind their peers that they had no hope of ever catching up with them, which meant that they would have no way of finding a job there either.

She had felt her world shatter that day, and had felt deep hatred for the ones responsible for the situation take root in her heart. Dumbledore had THREE positions of power, for Merlin's sake, surely he could have done something to allow Muggleborns better job prospects? But no, the man was barely seen, and when asked, McGonnagal had told her that he was dedicating his time to finding Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Disappeared. She did feel some satisfaction at hearing that all of his efforts were for naught, though.

Anyway, at the time, she was fourteen, and had thought that her situation couldn't get worse. How wrong she had been. Sometimes around the end of 1995 and the beginning of 1996, Lord Voldemort had been resurrected, or, from what she had heard from a conversation between McGonnagal and Dumbledore, regained a body. While the Ministry had fiercely denied such a thing, and proceeded to slander the old man and all those that believed them, only a fool would have missed the signs of the Dark Lord's return. Dementors had begun showing up everywhere in England, breeding like crazy, and causing the weather to be either rainy or foggy, even in the middle of summer. Attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns were at an all-time high, entire families vanishing overnight, while the children from notorious Dark families got more brazen, more open in their beliefs, doing everything short of announcing their master's return. She was often cursed in the corridors, and it was only because she was used to it that she managed to avoid the worst of it. She knew she couldn't expect anything from Dumbledore, as the one time she went to ask him why he was doing nothing to stop what was happening in his school, the man had answered that they could be redeemed, and that a harsh punishment would only make them go Dark. She had made it quite clear what she thought of him afterwards, and had proceeded to help the younger Muggleborns, teaching them spells to defend themselves, as well as a few rules they could use to their advantage.

She did not fool herself, however, as she knew that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made his move, and considering his views on Muggleborns, she was thinking about leaving the country altogether, though she would need to convince her parents of the danger. That, she had little doubt would be easy, her parents had raised her well, and trusted her, which meant that she wouldn't need to convince them that she was telling them the truth. She was already getting ready to flee the country, and had made plans to flee with her parents to Australia, where the magical community was more accepting towards people like her, and where her parents had a few friends.

She only had to wait until the end of the year, and she would leave. Let the fools reap what they had sown.

**-Break-**

Harry grinned as he smacked Rip Van Winkle's ass, causing the female vampire to yelp and go red, looking everywhere but at him. He was the only one who could do such a thing, as any other would find themselves with a lot of holes in their bodies. Granted, thanks to the ameliorations to the artificial vampires they wouldn't die, but it would be painful as Hell. The reason why he could do such a thing was simple: ever since his arrival at Millennium, Rip had taken the role of an older sister to him, and she was easily, with Schrödinger, the Werewolf he was the closest to. Of course, Rip, despite her age, looked like she was in her early twenties, and while she lacked the curves to really stand out as a beautiful woman, she still _was_ a beautiful woman. The fact that he was a teenager with raging hormones, and that Rip hadn't "done the deed" in more than fifty years had made it easy for them to take their friendship to a new level. Neither of them was in love with each other, that much was made clear before they did anything, however they were very close, and certainly had a deep affection for each other. So, the correct term for their relationship would be sex friends, though they were far closer than most.

Rip, despite her insecurities about her figure, was most certainly a beautiful woman, though some would have criticized her lack of bust, but he knew better. He had seen her naked, in nothing but her birthday suit, and she was _beautiful_. She was perfect, he had told her as much, and even if they weren't lovers, he was being honest. She had perfectly smooth, long legs, a flat stomach, thin but toned arms, a testament of her training as a soldier and of her abilities as an elite shooter, an aristocratic face with some freckles that made her look younger than she was, and smooth, snowy white skin. Her raven hair was silky, and despite her claims that she didn't do much to care for it, it was always perfectly combed and smooth.

He had also convinced her to join him, since from what he knew of the Major's plans, she was to be used as bait for Alucard, nothing more, and it would have been a waste to leave her to die like that. As such, he had made her a special portkey by using her necklace, one that would allow her to disappear to a safe house he had set up beforehand. Just in case, he had also used her glasses, and had keyed both portkeys to her, meaning that even if an enemy managed to get their hands on the porkeys, they would be unable to use them.

By now, he had managed to convince several grunts to join him as well, and he was contemplating asking the Doctor if it would be alright for him to transform people he picked up himself. If he had learnt one thing from his childhood, it was that if anyone had rescued him from his Hell, he would have done everything they had asked. As such, he was thinking about rescuing people who had nothing left to lose to create his own troops. Considering how poorly the world at large was run, he knew that he wouldn't be lacking candidates.

**-Break-**

Harry had to refrain from scoffing as he entered Diagon Alley, followed by Rip. The two of them, along with Zorin, had been tasked with coming to England and deal with a few people, since apparently, and after much discussions, the Order of the Phoenix had agreed to help the Hellsing Organization. This was something that the Major did not want, a feeling echoed by most of the Werewolves. They all remembered their crushing defeat at Alucard and Hellsing's hands during World War II, and had spent the last fifty years getting ready for their revenge. To have people butting in did not sit well with them, and, considering who said people were, neither did it sit well with Harry.

The Order of the Phoenix was Dumbledore's pet organization, created during the War in Britain to deal with the Death Eaters and Voldemort, however due to how it was run, its' efficacy was low at best. The only reason they had shown results at all was because a few members of the Order were clever enough to understand that merely stunning their opponents, like Dumbledore wanted, was useless, and as such fought to kill. Apparently, the old man had reactivated the Order after his disappearance to look for him, but now that Voldemort was back, they were also working on preventing him from returning to his full power, and failing miserably.

Apparently, there had been some kind of prophecy made to Dumbledore that Voldemort had learnt of, a prophecy that involved him, supposedly marking him as the only one able to defeat the Dark Lord. Of course, when told as such, Harry had laughed until he cried due to how stupid it sounded. Magical people all carried around weapons of mass destruction in the form of a wand, yet instead of fighting the Death Eaters and Voldemort themselves, they expected a teenager to do it for them. He had no intention of fighting for them, not when they were the ones responsible for the rise of the Dark Lord with their corrupt Ministry and Pureblood bigotry.

Anyway, the Major and the Werewolves didn't want outsiders to butt in their fight with Hellsing, and considering that said outsiders were directly involved with Harry's life, it had been decided that he would be the one to deal with them. Any of the Werewolves could have done so, of course, however, since Harry had a bone to pick with Dumbledore for leaving him at the Dursleys, and that he had been a wizard himself before his operation, the honor was his. Rip had come along because she wanted to help him, and Zorin was just there in case he needed some help. Of course, considering how much the muscled woman stood out in public, they had left her at a safe house, since having her walking with them in the middle of an alley where everyone had the mentality of people living in the eighteenth century was bound to attract too much attention.

The plan was rather simple: since the Order wanted to find Harry, all they had to do was make it so that they "accidentally" found him. As such, Harry was going to visit Diagon Alley when a notoriously "Light" family was there, pretending that he wanted to check on his family's vault. The cover story was that he had just recently learnt of his origins, and had come to England to see for himself the Potter Vaults.

The Weasleys, from what their contact had told them, were almost all in the Order, and from what Harry had found on them, they were also laughingly poor. This was due to several things, the first being that they had _seven_ children, a glaring abnormality for a Pureblood family, the second was that the Head of the family, Arthur Weasley, had a fascination with Muggles and was content with his job when he could have easily found a better paying one had he bothered to look, and finally, the fact that the ancestors of both the patriarch and matriarch of the family had poor managing skills, burning their money as if they were rich.

Walking with Rip, who was getting odd and sometimes outraged looks from the few people present due to the fact that she was wearing what in the wizards' eyes were men's clothes, it did not take long for him to spot the gaggle of red-haired people walking out of the bookstore.

Leading the group was who Harry assumed to be Molly Weasley, a plump woman who seemed to be rather overbearing if the way she was babbling instructions to her teenage children was any indication. Sure, she was their mother, but the way she was speaking made it clear that she believed her children were still unable to take care of themselves if she wasn't there. Next to her, looking rather embarrassed was a gangly redhead around his own age, who was wearing robes that had obviously seen better days, as he could spot several small food stains on them. Behind the two was a rather cute teenage girl with freckles, who luckily for her did not resemble her rather round mother. She was looking quite exasperated, understandable if her mother treated her like she was currently doing all the time. From what he could hear, it was as if the older woman believed her daughter to be made of glass. Finally, another redhead with several scars stood next to the group, surveying the area. To Harry's trained eyes, the man was the only one in the entire alley with a posture showing any form of physical training, which just showed how incompetent British wizards were. In South America's magical schools, it was mandatory to practice at least one sport, if only to have wizards and witches with bodies able to channel their power properly.

When they were at the group's side, Harry made sure to walk straight into the daughter, knocking her to the ground as he blinked, as if he had been deep in thought and hadn't noticed the girl. Making sure to act as an apologetic teenager, he dusted himself and made to reach for the downed girl.

"Sorry about that, I was a bit lost in thought." he apologized, though now that he could see her up close, he had to admit that the girl was somewhat cute. Not on Rip's level, of course, but had he encountered her on one of his missions for Millennium, he would certainly have taken the time to rape her.

"Yeah, well next time look...where...you're...going..." started to rant the girl, only to trail off and blush as she finally caught sight of his face.

Smirking inside, though he made sure that his amusement was not shown on his face, he lifted her up easily, before he made a show to take out his wand a vanish whatever dirt had stuck to her clothes. Of course, he didn't _need_ a wand, but he'd rather not have his enemies aware of that fact just yet. It had been personally made for him, and the wandmaker had seemed to know just what kind of person he was dealing with when he had told him that his wand was made for someone who cared not for the lives of others, someone who practiced the Dark Arts. Of course, Harry had made sure to obliviate the man afterwards, since even if he didn't think he'd warn the local wizard police, he didn't want to take risks.

"Watch where you're going next time!" growled the youngest male redhead, looking rather angry, that is until he glared at him.

"I was distracted, and I apologized. These things happen, get over it. Besides, I didn't bump into you, I bumped into your sister. Though I admit I must have been _very_ distracted to miss a cute girl like her."

His words made the redhead squeak and blush in embarrassment while the male Weasley seemed to get even angrier.

"Hey you! She's got a boyfriend already, so hands off! She doesn't-OUCH!"

"Shut up Ron, I can speak for myself, thanks!" growled the girl. "I'm Ginevra Weasley, but you can call me Ginny. This idiot is my brother Ronald, the guy standing behind me is my older brother Bill, and this is my mother Molly." she said, smiling at him.

His enhanced senses could pick up her arousal, and he had to refrain from chuckling. A quick peak in her head showed that he had guessed right, this girl was very, _very_ experienced when it came to having sex. Apparently her boyfriend was just the latest in a long series of boys, all of which she had slept with. More often than not, she had left them when she had grown bored of them, since she was very aware that she was attractive and as thus could easily find another boyfriend. It seemed that he had lucked out when he had bumped into her, as she was already thinking about seducing him.

It was also very funny for him to realize that she had a crush on him, or at least on what she imagined he was like. After all, the books written about him and the stories her mother told her about him were hardly accurate, since nobody in the magical world had seen him since he was one. The eight-years old Harry Potter depicted in them was quite different from the truth, he saved princess and defeated dragons, while the _real_ Harry was a monster who cared little about others at the same age. The Harry of stories was always preaching about peace and love, while he barely knew what love was.

"A pleasure, Ginny. This lady by my side is Rip Van Winkle, a good friend. And I'm Harry Blitz. Well, that's my adopted name anyway."

"You were adopted?" blinked the redhead, before looking at his eyes, hair, and then focusing on his forehead, where his "legendary" lightning bolt scar was barely visible. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and she promptly dragged her mother away, starting a hushed conversation with her. Of course, had he been human, he would never have heard what they were saying, but since he was a vampire, he could hear them as if they had been speaking out loud right next to him.

He felt himself twitch at what he was hearing, and the fact that Ronald was glaring at him as if he was an insult to everything he stood for didn't help his mood. It was easy to see that Molly believed her daughter when she said he was Harry Potter, as she kept glancing at him. Apparently the Weasley matriarch liked the idea of her daughter marrying into old money, as the second Ginny had suggested that she try to seduce him she had agreed. In fact, the two seemed to be contemplating using a love potion on him. He could tell that neither _wanted_ to do so, but apparently they felt that _they_ were a couple made in Heaven, since it reminded the matriarch of his own parents, and they would do anything to have Harry marry Ginny.

_Humanity at its' finest, _ he inwardly snorted. _And then people wonder why I hate humans_. _A bunch of self-serving bastards, yes!_

"Excuse me?" asked the matriarch as her daughter and her came back, "You look a lot like some old friends, and their son, who disappeared, was also named Harry. Do you know who your parents are?"

"Well, when I asked the local Gringotts bank, they did this test with my blood...I think my full name was Harry James Potter?"

**-Break-**

Harry had to refrain from groaning at the assembly currently staring at him. The moment the Weasleys had confirmed he was indeed Harry Potter through Bill Weasley's contacts in Gringotts (Harry had made sure to tell the Goblins beforehand to allow the leak of information), they had insisted that he come with them, and here they were, sitting in a house that _seeped_ darkness from every wall. Apparently it was a house belonging to the Black family, who were renowned in Britain for being among the darkest families in existence, that is until the current family Head, Sirius Black, who was firmly aligned with the "Light".

Rip was sitting next to him, looking around happily, or at least trying to, since the atmosphere was tense, and for obvious reasons, she hadn't been able to take her musket. Of course, not having her weapon of choice available should things go South made her nervous, though he had faith in her ability to take care of herself if it came down to a fight. He had to admit that subtlety was not these people's strong point however, as they were all openly staring at him, some in awe, some with suspicion, and some (Ginny Weasley) were staring at him as one would a very juicy steak.

"Well, perhaps you could tell us why we are here?" he asked, feeling quite aggravated by the rudeness shown by the wizards. "You were pretty insistent on us following you, so perhaps you could explain what you want?"

"Mind your manners, Harry. All will be explained when the Headmaster will arrive here." said Molly Weasley, looking gently admonishing, and he blinked at the woman.

"Excuse me?"he asked incredulously, "Who the Hell do you think you are to tell me what I should do? We've known each other for what? Ten minutes? I'm not going to listen to a woman I barely know, especially when you've brought us in this house without bothering to tell us why you even wanted us here!"

From the way the older woman seemed to swell on herself like an angered frog, reddening until her face was almost undistinguishable from her hair, she did not like to have people talk back to her, however he wasn't about to back down so easily. Besides, since he couldn't kill her just yet, he would have to make do with insults and verbal barbs.

"He's got you there, Molly." chuckled a bald, dark-skinned man. "Leave him some space, you've just dragged him here without explaining anything to him, of course he's going to be defensive."

"Where _is_ this, anyway?" asked Rip, who seemed torn between liking the dark atmosphere of the house, her vampiric nature making her more in tune with it, and looking disgusted at the state it was in.

It was obvious to anyone that the house had not seen any use for a very long time, as when they had entered, they had seen crackled wallpapers, and decorations that wouldn't have looked out of place in a museum for the nineteenth century. A thin layer of dust covered most of the furniture outside of the obviously used rooms, and the air itself smelled of dust and decay.

"We're in the house I grew up in." came the voice of Sirius Black as the man entered the room.

He was rather good-looking for a wizard, well for one who had spent twelve years rotting in a cell surrounded with soul-sucking, despair-inducing abominations. He still looked a bit underfed, but he certainly looked far better than he had in the photos posted in the _Prophet_, the British magical newspaper, when he had broken out of Azkaban.

"The name's Sirius Black, Harry. I know this looks a bit sudden, but I was a good friend of your parents'. I'm also your godfather."

He inwardly rolled his eyes. Of course he knew that, after all he had accessed his parents' Will, which had explained quite a few things he had been wondering about. Apparently, Dumbledore had been a manipulative bastard, sealing off the Will since it nominated people who could have raised him, while at the same time stressing that he was _not_ to be given to the Dursleys, under _any_ circumstances. Yet the aged man had purposefully ignored the Will, which he had witnessed, in favor of placing him with the Dursleys. Once he had learnt that there was a Prophecy concerning him and Voldemort, it had been easy to see that the Leader of the Light planned to raise him as a martyr. He had no idea of what had gone through Dumbledore's mind or what he had planned exactly, he only knew that the old man had done a lot to see that he grow up unloved.

Just as he was thinking about the man responsible for making him into the monster he was, said man strode in, his posture calm and confident, as if he actually owned the house they were in. He had to admit, the old man was powerful, of that there was no doubt, he could _feel_ the power rolling off him in waves, more so than any other wizard and witch he had met. Still, he was about as powerful as him, and unlike the older wizard, he had trained himself to be the best in everything. Dumbledore was so used to getting what he wanted that he doubted the old man had trained a single day in the last decade.

He quirked an eyebrow when the "Leader of the Light" stared at him, more specifically at his eyes, before his stare drifted to his almost faded scar, and almost too fast for anyone to notice, his wand was drawn and pointed at him.

"Albus?!"

"Dumbledore, what is the meaning of this?!" thundered Sirius, looking absolutely furious.

"Be silent, Sirius." ordered the old man, his gaze never leaving Harry.

Waving his wand in a complicated manner, Dumbledore stared as a dull red glow appeared around Harry, before it flashed bright red, making the old man's face fall.

"Oh, Harry. What have you done?" he whispered, his face full of regret. "How could you let this happen?"

"Dumbledore?" asked a confused Sirius, looking between the aged leader and his godson. "What's the matter?"

Summoning Harry's wand and pocketing it, the old man sat down and stared at the artificial vampire's mismatched eyes. He spared a glance at Rip, but apparently deemed her unimportant, and refocused his icy blue stare on the one the British wizards had taken to call "the Chosen One". Harry merely smirked and returned the stare, and as he expected, he soon felt a Legilimency probe try to enter his mind. He was aware that the infuriating old man wouldn't be able to bear the thought of losing the one he thought was destined to end Voldemort, which was why he had tempted him into looking into his mind. Of course, the moment Dumbledore's probe touched his defenses, he was thrown out with violence and those who were not aware of what had happened tensed as the aged man winced violently.

"T-t-t." he waggled his finger admonishingly, "Bad Dumbledore, no peaking into my mind."

"Okay, I've had enough of the suspense. Dumbledore, what's going on?!" snapped Sirius.

"One moment, Sirius." said the old man, as Harry felt his body lock in place.

**-Break-**

Dumbledore felt his heart sink at the sight of the angry mismatched eyes glaring at him. One a deep, emerald green, like the ones of Lily Potter, one of the few people able to hold lengthy discussions with him on advanced magical theory, and a witch who had sacrificed herself to protect her son's life. The other eye, a deep crimson, a color he recognized all too well from the eyes of his greatest failure, Tom Marvolo Riddle, or better known as Lord Voldemort. He had held the faint hope that despite the obvious corruption of Harry's body, his mind would have been protected, but alas, his hopes were for nothing as the soul fragment he was certain had been present in the scar had vanished. Or more exactly, had fused with the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was his fault, he knew. He had wanted Harry to grow up humble, starved for affection, hoping that he could use the Dursleys to keep him grounded, to build the foundations of the martyr the Wizardry World would need. He couldn't have said as such to anyone, of course, not everybody understood the sacrifices the Greater Good required. He had never taken into account the possibility that the soul fragment would actually manage to fuse with its' host, as he had believed, perhaps naively, that the Love that Lily had shown when she had sacrificed her life to save Harry would be enough to keep the piece of soul at bay. Now he was faced with a problem he did not know how to deal with, one that might very well change the fate of Wizardry Britain.

"Dumbledore, what in Merlin's name are you doing?! You better have a good reason for doing this to my godson!"

"Sirius! Sit down!" scowled Molly Weasley, and he felt gratitude for the redhead's intervention. He was still busy trying to think of how he could use this new development in the war against Voldemort. With Harry corrupted, it was unlikely that he would help them, that much was clear, but perhaps there was a way to convince him to lend his help to the Order's cause? He seemed rather close to the young woman next to him, perhaps there was a way of convincing her to aid them, and by proxy, to have Harry help them? It would depend on what had come from the fusion. Did Tom's personality become dominant, or did it blend with Harry's? Was the young man in front of him truly evil, or still treading the line that would make him a Dark Wizard?

_Nope, pretty sure I'm evil. By human standards, anyway._

He started in shock, and his eyes darted towards the restrained Harry, who was grinning at him, as if mocking him. Had he just read his mind? It was impossible! He was a master Occlumens, and a master Legilimens, meaning that he knew every trick to know when you wanted to enter another person's mind. This meant that he should have felt any form of intrusion in his mind, yet here Harry had managed to _speak_ to him using solely his mind, and he hadn't felt anything out of order.

"Harry? Were you the one to...?"

The young wizard rolled his eyes.

_No, duh, it was the fucking pope! Of course it was me! And to think people call you a genius._

He was about to open his mouth to ask just how Harry was able to do...whatever he was doing, when he was treated to the sight of the Chosen One shrugging off the spell that had bound him as if he was used to do so, after what he waved his hand and released his female friend, before turning back to glare at him.

"Great, now perhaps you can tell me what in the actual _fuck_ you were doing? I mean, I follow these people-" he pointed at the Weasleys-"here, despite them not giving us any explanation on what the Hell they wanted with us other than they knew my parents and that someone wanted to see me, and then you just waltz the _fuck_ in and decide that it'll be fun to immobilize us?! What are you, kidnappers?!"

"Harry, mind your words, young man!" scolded Molly Weasley, and he once again mentally thanked the matriarch for her help. Few ever wanted to step up to her.

He was surprised when Harry _sneered_ at the older woman, and gave her the finger, making Molly look at him in shock, since she was used to get things her way.

"Fuck you, bitch! You fucks have thirty seconds to explain what this shit is about, before we leave!"

He began to panic, though his experience allowed him to hide it. They couldn't afford to lose him! The Prophecy was clear on one thing, and it was that Harry James Potter was the _only_ one able to defeat Lord Voldemort once and for all. If _anyone_ else managed to vanquish him, he would only come later, more powerful than ever, since the Ministry refused to see what was happening. It seemed that at least Harry was not yet completely Dark, as had Voldemort's soul piece completely corrupted him, he doubted that the young man would have been so civil. Instead, it was likely that they would already be fighting for their lives, since Voldemort wouldn't have missed an occasion to take him down.

"Very well." he sighed. He hoped that they had not yet completely antagonized Harry, though considering the look he was giving them, it was clear that the wrong word could very well seal their fates.

**-Break-**

"So let me get this straight: there's a prophecy saying that I'm the only one able to take down this guy, Volde-whatever? And you want me to stay and help you fight him and his goons?" asked Harry, his face unreadable.

"That is the gist of it." nodded Dumbledore. "I will floo call Minerva, so that you may transfer to Hogwarts for your final year of schooling. We will also have to assign guards to you, as Voldemort will evidently try to kill you once he learns that you have been found. I will also like to talk to you later, in a more private setting, about some important matters, however those can wait.

Now, since you are back in England, I will call the Dursleys, since I am sure they missed you dearly. They were quite distraught when you ran away, though I am disappointed that you would do something so callous as to leave your relatives without leaving them any means to contact you."

The old man was now giving him a frown that one would expect to see on the face of a grandfather scolding their unruly grandchild, and it was what made Harry snap. Screw playing with the Order, he was going to murder them all, starting with the old prick in front of him, who believed that he could scold him when he was responsible for his hellish childhood. He had managed to scan some of his thoughts, and he felt his blood boil when he saw that Dumbledore had been perfectly aware that his childhood at the Dursleys would see him treated like a slave and hated, but also actually _wanted_ what had happened, or at least how the Dursleys had treated him.

"Well," he started, smiling and showing _very_ sharp teeth, "perhaps the reason why they had no way to contact me was because they sold me to a child trafficking ring when I was seven? Or because they had made it perfectly clear by the time that I was five that if I were to die they would celebrate?

That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To have me abused and desperate for affection, so that when I came to your little school, I'd look up to the "Great Albus Dumbledore"? You wanted me to be the perfect little martyr, ready to sacrifice myself for others, didn't you? Well news flash, _arschloch_, I don't give a flying fuck about your people, in fact I'm tempted to help Voldie kill you off. At least he's upfront with what he does, he doesn't manipulate people for the "Greater Good"!

Did you really think I'd give a fuck about the one who was responsible for making the first seven years of my life a living Hell? Or did you think I'd care about the redheaded _slut_ who's already thinking about what love potion she's going to use to seduce me? Or that I wouldn't want to kill the greedy shit who's planning on using potions to set me up with her daughter so that she can take my gold? Hmmm?"

He smirked as he watched the spluttering redheads trying to deny his accusations, while Dumbledore was frowning, and the others seemed to be staring at those he wanted put on the grill with disgust and disbelief. He felt his grin widen at the negative emotions rolling off from everyone. Anger. Shame. Disgust. He could almost taste them in the air, thanks to the pheromones emitted by their bodies.

Standing up, he was unsurprised to find Dumbledore's wand pointed at him, cold ice blue eyes staring at him disapprovingly and with some anger. Obviously the "Leader of the Light" wasn't used to not getting what he wanted.

"Sit down, Harry. We are not finished."

The old man's voice was cold, and brimmed with power, while he could feel the magic swirling around his aged frame. Too bad for him, Harry wasn't one to listen to those weaker than him, though he guessed that the fact he was the stronger one of the two was something Dumbledore hadn't even considered.

"Oh, but we _are_." he grinned, just before his hand shot at speeds too fast for a human to notice and grabbed the old man's head, and squeezing it. With a minimum of resistance, Dumbledore's head was crushed like a ripe watermelon, spraying blood and brain matter on those surrounding him. Knowing that the shock wouldn't last long, and unwilling to leave anything to chance, he immediately jumped over the table, landing in front of the large, dark-skinned man, whose hand was already reaching inside his robes for his wand. Grabbing his arm, Harry _pulled_, tearing it from its' socket, and threw it at a heavily scarred man who had barged inside the room.

Said man ducked under the projectile, his wand already alight with a spell, when he was kicked into the wall by an angry Rip. The older vampire didn't stop there, however, as she took out a Heckler&amp;Koch USP and fire several rounds at point blank range in his head. Blood splattered on the walls as she did so, landing on Ginevra's clothes as well as the redhead opened her mouth to scream. She never uttered a sound, as a conjured dagger lodged itself in her neck, and she slid to the floor, blood flowing from her mouth as she choked on the crimson fluid, her hands brushing against the hilt of the dagger in the hopes of removing it, but the pain stopping her from moving it.

While the girl was choking on her own blood, he rushed Molly Weasley. With two swift kicks, her knees were shattered and she fell on the floor screaming in pain. Two stomps and her hands and fingers were broken as well, while he went for his next target, each of his movements as fluid as a dancer's, graceful and flowing, despite the sheer brutality he was showing.

_These guys _really _aren't worth a damn..._

**-Break-**

**"**Well, that was messy, right Rip?" commented Harry, standing in the middle of a puddle of blood, corpses and body parts scattered everywhere around him. Apparently one of the members of the Order had thought that it was a good idea to call for help using some enchanted pendant, which meant that they didn't even have to look for the missing members, since they had almost all Apparated in as soon as they could, with the exception of Severus Snape, since he was currently at a Death Eater meeting. They didn't even need to kill the man, all they would need was to send a message to Voldemort stating that he had been a double spy, and the Dark Lord would deal with him. And even if he didn't, what could the man possibly do? He had no way of knowing what had happened, and as such no way to warn Hellsing of the existence of Millennium.

"MMMm..."nodded the Millennium officer, who was happily gorging herself on the blood of Ginevra Weasley. She had already drained the girl's older brother dry, as well as a strange purple-haired young woman whose appearance had shifted several times during the fight. "That was easy!" she chirped, as the redhead's corpse fell on the ground with a dull "thud".

"Not surprising, these guys are complete wimps. The only ones worth a damn were Dumblefuck, that bald guy, and the one with the weird, twisting eye. The others clearly didn't have any experience in a war. I mean, who the Hell freezes just because of some blood?"

"Who cares?" grinned Rip, "Mission accomplished!"

"Actually, we're _almost_ done. There's something I've being wanting to do for a _long_ while, so we'll have to wait a bit more before going home." he grinned.

"Really?" asked Rip, cocking her head to the side. "What is it?"

His grin widened, showing very sharp teeth.

**-Break-**

Cornelius Fudge was not having a good day. In fact, ever since that fool Dumbledore had publicly announced that You-Know-Who had come back, he hadn't gotten a single good day. Honestly, how could the people believe something as outrageous? There was no proof whatsoever that what the senile old man had said was true. So what if some Muggleborns and Half-Bloods families had disappeared? It was obvious that they had dabbed in the Dark Arts and had gotten themselves killed because of their ignorance. To say that it was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's fault was ludicrous, treasonous! If He had come back, the Ministry would have know about it, after all only the finest wizards and witches in the country could work there, all of them from respectable Pureblood families. Such an event wouldn't go unnoticed by them, and those saying that they were Death Eaters were obviously lying.

As he took out a bottle of scotch, his third this month, he was startled when a large tremor shook his office, making his furniture rattle and some books fall on the ground, while some of the pictures hanging on the walls fell, causing their inhabitants to scream in protest. Fortunately, the tremor was quick to stop, and he righted himself, before immediately striding out of his office to ask his secretary what was happening. However, just as he opened his mouth to ask _why_ he was being bothered by a tremor, another quake shook the building, far more violent than the first, and unlike before, it did not stop, as other tremors sent Fudge to his knees, while faint screams could be heard, coming from the other side of the door.

Cursing, he tried to get up, but was sent flying when the wall _exploded_ in a torrent of fire and debris, riddling him with holes as the floor above his office collapsed on him, squashing him like a bug.

**-Break-**

Harry and Rip grinned as they watched the Ministry of Magic collapse, flames devouring it as Ministry workers screamed and ran around like headless chickens. The funniest part of it all was that the fire wasn't even some magical fire, which meant that had the idiots tried to take it out with simple water spells, like _Aguamenti_, they would have snuffed the fire before it could even spread too far. Unfortunately for them, they were so used to be told what to do, and the attack had been so sudden, that they had absolutely no idea of what to do. The fact that they didn't even know what explosives were meant that they also had no clue as to what had caused the explosions that had rocked the Ministry, and knowing the bigoted nature of the British magical population, it was likely that they would blame the attack on some form of new spell or potion created by the Unspeakables that would have gone wrong. That is unless someone with an actual brain and some common sense became the new Minister, but from what little he knew, it was unlikely.

Anyway, he had to admit that causing so much chaos had been disappointingly easy, since all he had needed to do was hypnotize the guard to let them in, place a few dozen C4 charges here and there, and waltz out unimpeded. The building wasn't even reinforced with magic, which meant that it had collapsed like a castle of cards blown by a strong wind. Considering that it was the busiest hour of the day, odds were that the casualties would be in the hundreds, though the chaos was really all he had been after. The Ministry hadn't even bothered to check on him, their national hero, in seventeen years, and worse, they had begun asking for him to be returned to Britain at the ICW, should he be a citizen of one of the countries present. The way the British representative had said so made it clear that Harry was not a person to the British wizards, but a commodity, something to be treated however they saw fit, with no regards for his human rights.

_Only time will tell if this wake-up call manages to get their heads out of their asses..._

While Harry was aware that he was by all means a monster, an abomination, he was fine with it. He cared little if people called him a heartless monster, as the babblings of idiotic fools were something he no longer cared about. However, there was a desire in his heart, perhaps a childish one, but a desire nonetheless, that had been born from his wicked existence. He had seen the evil in mankind, a family that would treat one of their own like a monster because of something he had no control over, people that abducted children and raped them, trained them to be sex slaves because it would earn them money, but never in his existence had he met someone that would represent the other end of the spectrum. If he was the worst, then who would embody the best? If he was evil, who was good? If he was the Monster, who would be the Hero embodying the very best of mankind? He wanted to see, he wanted to meet a person like that, one that would be his polar opposite. However, a sad truth was that mankind seldom birthed people deserving such a title, and even then, only after living through Hell and fighting for their lives could they truly be called Heroes. People who did good existed, but they hardly suffered, their resolve to do good was hardly tested. True heroes were those who had lived through Hell, who had suffered, cried, bled, but had refused to shed their humanity to become monsters, they clung to it, and instead of drowning themselves in evil, and living only for their sake, stood tall and proud, helped others overcome their own hardships.

Perhaps he wouldn't meet such a person anytime soon, but he had all the time in the world. It wasn't as if he planned to die anytime soon anyway. But for now, he'd continue living his life as he saw fit.

Turning to look at Rip, he cracked his neck.

"Time to go home. What do you say about a snack and some fun in bed before then?"


	4. Chapter 4-Plans coming to fruition

**Two things before we get to the chapter:**

**-one, the next chapter of _The Bloody Ashikabi_ might take longer to be updated, as while I have finished it, a review I got made me realize that it could be improved, a lot, as such I will be re-writing parts of it, and Heaven forbid, start from scratch.**

**-two, this chapter may be offensive to English readers, as I more or less bash the Queen in it. This is a story, not a depiction of my opinion on the are simply a few things from Potter canon that rub me the wrong way about her. She _should_ have kept an eye on the magical world of her country, especially considering how easy it is for a single magical person to cause untold amounts of damage ( a single example: what would happen if a Muggleborn _imperiused_ the crew of a destroyer and sent missiles on another country?), and she _should_ have acted at one point during the First War. I mean, it's made rather clear that without the accident when Voldie tried to kill Harry, he would have won, and by that point his Death Eaters would most likely already have begun killing Muggles for sport.**

* * *

** I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter.**

* * *

**03**

**Plans coming to fruition**

Harry sighed as he watched Alhambra fight against Alucard, the Dandy may have been powerful for a first-generation artificial vampire, but the No-Life King was in a league of his own, even among natural vampires, which meant that the odds of the Werewolf winning were barely above zero. Though he guessed that it was what the Major wanted, after all the man was usually quite happy to sacrifice people so long as it got him what he wanted. The Valentine brothers, for instance, had actually thought that they would be able to be able to storm Hellsing Manor with their Ghoul army and get out unscathed, the idiots. All the Werewolves would have known that doing so was a suicidal move, what with all of Hellsing's "special assets" being present at the time. Not only was Alucard there, but his newly created Draculina, Seras Victoria, and the "God of Death", Walter C. Dornez were present as well. While the Draculina was still quite weak due to her rejecting the idea of drinking blood, both Alucard and Walter would have been able to deal with both brothers and their Ghoul army by themselves.

Anyway, it seemed that the secrecy of Millennium's existence would soon no longer be a major concern, and he grinned at the thought of being able to _finally_ have some fun. While the occasional murder did help him alleviate his boredom, he wanted nothing more to shove into mankind's face the fact that they were _not_ the top of the food chain any longer. He wanted to see armies of undead laying siege to the last strongholds of mankind, to know that the once proud race had been forced to live like rats, only surviving because of the mercy of those stronger than them. He cared little about anything else, why would he? Repaying mankind for his treatment in his early years had always been the only thing on his mind, and it wasn't like he wanted to have a family, or anything else so _normal_. He had been raised until he was seven by people who had repeatedly told him, _beaten into_ him, that he wasn't human, that he was a Freak. After everything that had happened, he had come to accept that he was indeed, a Monster. So what? Why should he care? He was a Monster, so he would act like one. The fact that he _liked_ acting as a Monster was only the icing on the cake.

He whistled as Alhambra and Alucard tried to punch each other, only for the No-Life King's outstretched hand to _slice_ the other man's arm in two halves from his hand to his shoulder. _That_ _had_ to hurt! This was why he wasn't foolish enough to challenge Alucard to a one-on-one fight. A vampire's power was mainly determined by how old they were, and how many people they had fed on. This meant that a particularly bloodthirsty vampire with only a few decades of existence could be more powerful than a vampire that had existed for centuries if said vampire fed only from time to time. Alucard, however, had been around for centuries and hard _gorged_ himself repeatedly, which was why he was so powerful. When fighting him, they were not facing a simple vampire, they were facing the combined might of all said vampire's victims put together. And that was a _lot_.

"Who are you?" asked a feminine voice, as the sound of a safety being taken off could be heard.

Lazily looking behind him, he grinned as he saw the blue eyes of Seras Victoria staring at him with suspicion. She _had_ the right to be suspicious, though, since he had been sitting on a building and staring at the fight between her Master and the Dandy, without interfering of course, but still. And since he wasn't a known Hellsing operative...

Looking at the Draculina closely, he had to admit that the video feeds he got to see back at Millennium's headquarters didn't do her justice. She was a gorgeous young woman in her prime, and would now forever look as if she was in her late teens. Her uniform clung to her curves, and curves she had, wide hips and large breasts, had she walked on the streets in broad daylight many men would have fallen over themselves to woo her. She still looked a bit green, naive even, but considering who her Master was, it was only a matter of time before she lost whatever naiveté and innocence she had left.

He had read what he had been able to find on her, and he had to admit that had she not become a Draculina, she might have been one of the very few humans he didn't want to bleed dry or maim violently. Her father, a cop, had apparently learnt a bit too much about some criminals, who had one day shown up at their home, brutally killed him, before killing her mother, and then proceeded to rape her corpses in front of Seras, whom they had shot in the stomach and yet was still conscious. While traumatic in the same way his own experiences as a child had been, he could freely admit that to become the young woman she was now despite this experience showed that she was one of the few humans he could have admired. He still respected her now that she was a vampire, of course, but she was the enemy, and one thing he knew was that it was always foolish to underestimate an enemy.

Giving the beautiful Draculina a fanged grin, he disappeared, knowing that they would soon see each other again. After all, the Major wanted him to attend the meeting between the Queen, the Vatican's Thirteenth Section and the Hellsing Organization. It would be the first official meeting between the two, since the Catholic priests rarely associated with Protestants if they could help it, an example of that being Anderson, the top executive of Iscariot, who was more than happy to kill as many Protestants as he could whenever he was on a mission that allowed him to set foot in England. Of course, such a meeting wouldn't be complete without a little..._message_ from the Major, since said meeting was mainly focused on how to deal with Millennium.

_Time for war is almost here..._

**-Break-**

"It's what Tubalcain's blood told ya, hm?" smirked Schrödinger.

Harry, who was currently hidden in the shadows, grinned at the reactions of the people present. Integra Wingates Fairbrook Hellsing, Alucard's Master, had widened her eyes, which, if the information the Major had provided him with was accurate, was more than enough to show how surprised she was. As Alucard's Master, she was a very composed person, with the most powerful vampire in the world as her lapdog. The fact that the No-Life King himself respected her enough to carry out her orders without much opposition was quite telling of her character, as he knew that the old vampire would never listen so well to a person they didn't respect immensely. When it was still Integra's father who gave the vampire his orders, it was quite normal for them to bicker until the Hellsing had to use his status to order Alucard to follow through his orders.

Anyway, he had to admit that the people in the room were interesting. Not only was the Queen herself present, but Alucard was there as well, Seras too, Walter and a mercenary whose name he hadn't bothered to learn were there as well. Sitting at the same table, in front of the Hellsing representatives and the members of the Round Table were the Vatican's envoys, Enrico Maxwell, leader of Iscariot, the hidden branch tasked with dealing with supernatural threats. The man's presence was a testament to how serious the British were taking Millennium's threat, since Enrico was a fanatic who would have been all too happy to kill every Protestant in the room if he thought he would be able to get away with it. The man _hated_ everything that wasn't Catholic, and was notorious for his dislike to deal with Protestants, whom he called Heretics.

He was greatly amused to see both the mercenary and one of the Vatican's agents taking out their weapons and pointing them at Schrödinger. As if they could kill the boy. Even Alucard would have trouble with that, and there were very few beings the No-Life King _couldn't_ kill easily. Even Dragons would be easy to kill for him, so long as he was allowed to use his full strength, though he had never heard of a tale where he would have fought one of the fire-breathing lizards.

"...No signs of an intruder, milady." he heard Walter comment to Integra.

"Don't bother, I am everywhere and nowhere at the same time." grinned the catboy. Knowing him, he was greatly enjoying the moment, since his declaration was basically a taunt useless to those who did not, like him, know of his abilities.

Schrödinger was arguably the most durable of the Werewolves, superior to even the Captain in that aspect. His power was very complex, and based on a famous experience of quantum mechanics devised by the Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger. Basically, the boy's existence was uncertain, which meant that so long as he was aware of himself, he existed wherever and whenever he wanted, allowing him to pop out where he wanted and to survive wounds that would have killed any other being. The base line of this could be summed up as "I think, therefore I am.". So long as he thought, he would exist, but the second he believed he was dead, he would disappear.

He had to refrain a laugh as his senior bowed to Seras Victoria, the poor Draculina obviously having no idea of how to react to an emissary of their enemies being polite. In the end, she bowed as well and returned the greetings.

"Schrödinger," he chided, causing some of the people present to jump in their seats as they probably had been too focused on Schrödinger to pay attention to anything else, "Stop playing with the girl, you are here to deliver the Major's message, nothing more, nothing less."

The cat boy _pouted_, but nodded, his ears laying flat on his head. He was actually surprised that the boy only ever listened to him without joking, even the Major was made fun of whenever Schrödinger was around.

"Walter?" asked Integra, and he could see that her eye was twitching, no doubt disliking the fact that _two_ people had managed to slip in a building supposed to be impenetrable and protected by the best elements of Hellsing.

"Don't bother." he grinned, materializing behind Schrödinger and putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Your defenses aren't exactly foolproof, you know? You could have gone with a few wards, that would have made security considerably better."

At the word _wards_, he could see Integra's eyebrows rise in understanding, before she motioned for the people present to stand down, which they did, albeit reluctantly.

"So, Millennium had a wizard working for them." commented the Head of Hellsing, frowning. "I wasn't aware that they even knew about the existence of your kind."

He shrugged.

"Well, apparently they met Grindelwald once, so they knew about magic, but that was about it. I don't think they expected to find a wizard or a witch anytime soon anyway. The fact I joined was more luck than anything else."

Turning, he then gave a small bow to the Queen.

"Greetings, your Majesty."

"Greetings." came the voice of the aged Queen, and he could tell that she was curious as to why an enemy of England would greet her at all. "May we know your name, wizard?"

He grinned. Oh, he was going to enjoy this. While she was not directly responsible for his treatment as a child, it was clear that a _lot_ of what had happened to him was caused by her way of ruling. While he acknowledged that she was only human, she had made one too many mistakes, and he wasn't about to sugarcoat what he was about to say.

"Oh, I do believe you know me. In fact," he looked at the Hellsing's representatives, "I believe that Sir Integra knows my name as well. But before I even give my name, I have a question. It's been nagging me for years, and now than I can get an answer straight from the source, I'm going for it."

Turning back to stare at the Queen, and ignoring everyone else, he took a deep breath...and then shouted:

"WHEN THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO GET YOUR WRINKLED ASS MOVING AND DO YOUR FUCKING JOB, BITCH?!"

Utter silence filled the room. Nobody among those present could even _believe_ the nerve of the young man who not only was an enemy, but had also infiltrated a reunion of the very people who wanted him and his associates dead, and had dared to insult the Queen of the United Kingdom, in her face, and in front of some of her most loyal lapdogs.

Harry, however, ignored everyone but the Queen as he glared at the aged woman.

"It seems you don't understand what I'm talking about. Allow me to elaborate. You are aware of the existence of a hidden society of magic users living in your country. And, unless you are a completely incompetent ruler, you keep up to date with what these people do, as such, you are perfectly aware of how badly the Ministry of Magic of your country is run. Until quite recently, the Minister, the highest authority of the magic users after you, was a man whose best friend was a known terrorist who hadn't been sent to prison because he had bribed his way out after all.

You are also aware of the fact that a little more than two decades ago, a war started among the wizards and witches, with one side perfectly happy to murder entire families and who preached the enslavement of all those that couldn't use magic. And even when it got to the point where entire _towns_ disappeared off the map, you did nothing to reign them in. I mean, unless I know your duties better than you, it's your _fucking job_ to make sure that if the Ministry of Magic gets too corrupted, you step in and take charge. But did you do that? Nooo, you were perfectly happy to let your subjects die while you sat living in luxury, ignoring their troubles."

The sound of multiple safeties being removed was heard as soon as he finished his rant, and he could feel the members of the Round Table, all without exception, pointing guns at him. Of course, bullets didn't work on him, not even the silver bullets Hellsing supplied to their members, however considering what he knew of Walter's abilities when it came to creating custom-made weapons, he wouldn't put it past Integra to have bullets able to affect him.

He twitched his fingers, and he relaxed. Now all the guns pointed at him had been transfigured into bananas, making the scene quite surreal. He wished Schrödinger had been able to take a picture of the moment, he was certain the Werewolves would have laughed themselves silly at the sight of the mighty members of the Round Table threatening a vampire with bananas.

With a smirk, he commented:

"Well, perhaps you want to lower your bananas, that is unless you wish to look like idiots threatening a vampire with fruits."

Looking back at the Queen, he tapped his foot impatiently, his posture similar to a parent scolding an unruly child.

"So? What do you have to say for your defense? And before you start, it better be good, otherwise you will want to sleep with an eye open at night."

With a casual cocking of his head, he avoided the bullet from Integra's gun. As he had expected, she had more than one weapon on her person.

"I hope for your sake that you are not threatening Her Majesty, vampire." she growled.

"And what if I was?" he asked, a cocky grin on his face. "Tell me, Lady Hellsing, if you had been abused and raped as a child, how would you react if you found yourself facing a cop looking the other way when the events happened? Because this is the same situation. Queenie had a duty to step in if things got too bad in the magical world, but she's done nothing. Which means that she is similar to a cop looking the other way when a crime happens on his watch."

"Why are you so interested in her actions anyway?" asked the mercenary, who until then had been silent, though Harry had seen him silence a laugh when he had transfigured the guns into bananas.

"Why? Because she is directly responsible for a number of deaths, and for my own not-so stellar childhood. Does the name Harry Potter ring a bell?" he asked, and he was pleased to see Integra widen her eyes in recognition.

"_You_ are Harry Potter? No wonder Dumbledore couldn't find you, from what he told me, he was convinced you were still in the country. But why would you join Millennium when they have been sending artificial vampires against your own country? And why would you even agree to help them? Do you have no pride as a British citizen?!"

A harsh laugh escaped from his lips as he _sneered_ at the mocha-skinned woman.

"Trust me, when you've grown up like me, pride is the last thing on your mind. Pride doesn't feed you, doesn't keep you warm, doesn't protect you from beatings, and it certainly doesn't make your life easier when you live with abusive people. So no, I have absolutely no pride as a British, not when the only example of citizens I have were either abusive relatives, neglectful teachers, and ignorant children.

I actually have more pride in my rank of First Lieutenant of Millennium. At least _they_ were decent enough to provide me with what I needed, be it clothes or food."

Then he blinked, and he sighed. He _really_ shouldn't have gone on a tangent like that. He had only come to mock Hellsing, but once he had seen the Queen, he had just...snapped. He really _should_ have controlled himself better, especially since he had _known_ that the Queen would be present. It had just pissed him off to see the old hag sitting on her throne like perfect royalty when she had done absolutely _nothing_ to intervene in the First Wizardry War, despite it being her _duty_ as the Queen.

It had angered him to no end when he had learnt that the Queen had the power and duty to dissolve the Ministry of Magic if she ever judged it was not performing its' duty to the best of its' capacity, and considering just how far the British wizards and witches had fallen, she should have done something _far_ earlier. Yet she had done nothing when Voldemort had begun waging war for the first time, decimating wizardkind and Muggles indiscriminately, she had done nothing to deal with the blatant segregation shown by wizards, and she had done nothing to help in the reconstruction after the war. What kind of ruler _ignored_ an entire part of society when said part was made of people who had the means to break just about every law they wanted with little trouble? Wizards could abduct people with a simple stunner, kill them with a wide variety of spells and poisons, and even could have taken control of entire _companies_ if they had been more intelligent and more interested in the Muggle world.

There were so many ways for wizards to mess up a country beyond recognition that it wasn't even funny, and yet the Queen acted as if whatever they did was their own problem, despite the very real consequences their actions could have on her country. Hell, the Dementors that Voldemort had used in the first war, from what he had read, had roamed the country and Kissed a lot of people without caring that they were wizards, witches, or Muggles. Which begged the question: did she have a reason for acting as she did, or was she no longer fit to reign? She was old, after all, and it wasn't unheard of for people of her age to start going senile, even if it was unlikely that her entourage would miss the signs.

Shaking his head, he continued:

"Well, anyway, we're here to deliver a message from the higher-ups. Schrödinger?" he motioned for the cat-like boy to resume where he had been interrupted.

"Aye, Harry!" he grinned, taking out what appeared to be a portable communication device and putting on the table, and then pushing a button on a remote with a smug grin. Smug grin that then disappeared as nothing appeared on the screen.

"Hmm?" came the voice of the Major, "It isn't showing what we are doing, Warrant Officer Schrödinger."

Behind the man's calm voice, desperate pleas could be heard, and Harry recognized one of the "big shots", the idiots that had thought _they_ were in charge of Millennium. They had been kept alive because the Major wanted to make an example out of them, even if their infuriating ego was hard to bear with at times. How often had he wanted to rip them to shreds, the old coots looking down on him because he was a teenager, despite his power? At least they were getting what they deserved, and he grinned, showing his fangs.

"Major, you're having some problems there, uh?" grinned Schrödinger, whose grin was as large as Harry's. He had never liked the old men, so he was probably quite happy to hear them begging for their lives.

"No, not since we've finished..."drawled the Major.

On the screen could be seen several mutilated corpses, their ribcages torn open as if a wild animal had devoured them. White bones could be seen, dripping with crimson blood and some having some muscles still loosely attached to them.

"Hello, Major." spoke Alucard, walking from the throne towards the screen.

"It has been a long time, Alucard...It is a pleasure to see you again." waved the small man.

"What is your objective?" cut Integra's cold, dignified voice.

"Oh? You are the Head...Integra Hellsing? I don't think we've already met." greeted the Major, grinning, and his voice showing clear amusement and interest.

"What kind of purpose could be the cause of such monstrous acts?" insisted the mocha-skinned woman. "Answer me!"

The image on the screen flickered, showing only a dark figure where the Major had stood, the twin lenses of his glasses shining ominously in the dark.

"Purpose? My fair _Fräulein_...That is a stupid question." chuckled the golden-eyed man. "You ask what our purpose is? To be honest, _Fräulein..._We do not have a purpose."

The image on the screen changed again, this time showing a bound and gagged old man wearing an officer uniform, with a sign reading "_I am a defeatist!."_ around his neck trembling in terror.

"Listen, _Fräulein_...In this world there are those that choose to not have a purpose to get what they want. To put it simply...There are those who are like us..."

With a snap of his fingers, several soldiers rushed towards the bound man, tearing him apart with bestial growls.

"Do finish your plate..."commented the voice of the Doctor, "If they turn into Ghouls, it will be bothersome..."

Screams of agony could be heard as the end of the man was shown, devoured alive by the vampires and screaming for mercy despite his innards being ripped off and eaten before his very eyes. Many of the people present paled and looked sick at the sight, while Harry merely whistled lowly. Such a sight, while uncommon, was not something he was unused to, so he had long since stopped being bothered by such scenes.

"Uwahhh...It looks really disgusting, Major!" commented Schrödinger, despite the large grin on his face.

"You are mad." blandly commented Maxwell, seemingly not at all bothered by the sight.

"Oh? Speaking of madness, Vatican's Iscariot?" grinned the Major. "It is your God that allows us this madness. But I ask of you...Who guarantees a sane mind to your God?"

The pale-haired man paled and his eyes widened as if he had been slapped, sweat forming on his brow. However the Major was not finished with his speech, as he continued:

"We are the proud Schutzstaffel of the Third Reich! How many people do you think we have killed? Mad? And you are calling us such only now? You are half a century late! Very good, wonderful! Let us see if you can stop me, go on and try! However, neither you nor your people happen to be my enemy, so do kindly stay peacefully where you are. My enemy is England! Hellsing! No...The man happily laughing and standing there!"

As he finished, a roaring laughter finally erupted from Alucard's mouth, the No-Life King laughing hysterically.

"What a superb declaration of war! Very good, I'll pulverize you as many times as you want!" grinned the No-Life King, his eyes burning with a passionate fire as he clenched his fist, the runes on his gloves glowing crimson.

"What a ferocious enmity we share..."grinned the Major.

As he continued his speech, Harry noticed Integra looking quite fed up.

"Alucard, Seras: fire."

Faster than he could have predicted, Alucard had taken out his twin guns and had shot Schrödinger in the mouth, and him in the head. The left side of his face exploded into meaty chunks, blood splattering the ground around him as his body fell backwards, that is until his brain started to regenerate. Instantly, he felt his powers roar to life to rebuild his body. Tendrils of pure darkness coalesced and remade his face, blood was absorbed back into his organism, and bones rebuilt themselves while muscles regenerated.

"Oh? You killed the messenger, how violent!" commented the Major. "Good bye _Fräulein_, I will wait for the day we will meet on the battlefield."

Just as he finished speaking, the communication device was shot several times by Seras, the Draculina having pointed her gun at it. Everyone was so focused on the crater that had been the communication device that none had even noticed that Harry was still very much present, that is until he spoke.

"Not bad, Alucard. Miss Victoria, quite good as well. See you on the battlefield..." he grinned, transporting himself away just as a bullet impacted the wall where his head had once been. "_Good luck, you will need it..."_

**-Break-**

Harry scowled as he watched the solution Integra had chosen to send Alucard free the Aircraft Carrier from Millennium. _Crashing a jet into it_? _What a waste of money...Then again, they _were_ pretty desperate..._An Aicraft Carrier hijacked by Millennium was Bad News for Hellsing, as it would allow them to strike far easier wherever they wanted on the coast of England. Of course, Millennium had no _need_ for such a thing, as Harry could easily have bought several Carriers without making much of a dent in his accounts, thanks to the gold he had taken from the organization's funds.

He watched as the soldiers, artificial vampires that they were, were slaughtered by Alucard, the No-Life King creating countless arms made of the purest darkness and sending them towards the veterans of World War II, tearing them to shreds as they desperately fought for their lives, shooting at them with everything they had. Many screamed, unable to comprehend the truly devilish power of their foe, unable to comprehend how a natural vampire could be so much more powerful than them. Even with the great enhancements Harry had helped the Doctor develop for the creation of artificial vampires, they were no match for one of the oldest and most powerful vampires alive. The only one Harry _believed_ had a chance of matching Alucard in terms of power was the Bloody Countess, Elizabeth Bathory. She too was a very old vampire, and she too had consumed countless people. However, from what he had discovered, she much preferred to blend with humans, and control them from the shadows. Her powers were far more focused on the mind and illusions, though as an elder vampire she was still powerful enough to rip any opponent to shreds. Perhaps once everything was done, he could see if the Countess was interested in a partnership?

He growled as Rip fought Alucard, her bullets ripping his body to shreds _again _and _again_ and _again_, until he caught one with his teeth, stunning her so much that she lost all control on her other bullets, which then dropped as if they were normal ammunition. She then begun crawling away, her terror so great that she had even forgotten the Portkeys he had made for her. With a growl, he disappeared.

**-Break-**

"Good evening, Alucard." he greeted, materializing in front of Rip and Alucard.

The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and fire, as flames consumed the Carrier, their flickering light creating contorting shadows, twisting the darkness around them.

"'Ello." grinned the No-Life King, before spitting the silver bullet out, his powers allowing his skin to knit back together until there was no sign the tall raven-haired man had _bit_ down on a bullet.

The very fact that he had managed to intercept one of Rip's shots was most likely because she had been terrified out of her mind, making her control sloppy and their speed drop. Otherwise he was certain that he would never have managed to catch the bullet.

"We meet again, Lord Potter." grinned the elder vampire, his frame shifting in anticipation, as if the man's familiars were eager to come out. "I must admit, I am surprised. I did not expect that man to care about the lives of his subordinates."

"He doesn't. I'm here on my own, not because I was ordered to." admitted the green and crimson eyed vampire.

"Oh?" voiced the older man, his gaze flickering to the terrified form of Rip, who was backing away from him, her form fraught with pure _terror_.

Harry had no idea of what was going through the former Count's head, though he was surprised to see a flicker of _something_ in the crimson eyes, something different than the bloodlust usually there. However it disappeared far too quickly for him to be sure of it, with the flickering light it could have been his imagination.

"And what makes you think I will let you leave with her?" he grinned, slowly taking out his guns.

Alucard's weapons were not conventional guns, no regular human would have been able to lift them, let alone _shoot_ them, the recoil alone would have shattered their arms and shoulders. The .454 Casull and the Jackal were weapons built _for _Alucard, and only him. While Harry was confident that he _may_ be able to use them, he was not stupid enough to believe that it would be enough to kill the older vampire. Besides, he had his own weapons, that he had asked the Doctor to make for him.

With a hiss from Harry in Parseltongue, Rip disappeared, her Portkey transporting her away from the Carrier, and simultaneously frying the death switch inside her. He didn't think the Major would want to kill her, as she _had_ done her job, which was to lure Alucard on the now burning Carrier, but he didn't want to take any risks. He himself risked rather little, since the Major had never included him in his plans, and he had not interfered with said plans per se, since had he not saved Rip, the No-Life King would still have been stuck in the middle of the ocean. The only reason _he_ even could be there was because he was a wizard by birth, allowing him skills that Alucard, despite his centuries of existence and tremendous power, could not possess.

A grinning Alucard pointed the Jackal at him.

"Good, now that the girl is gone, come on. Come on, come on, _come on_!" he roared, shooting bullets that impacted Harry's legs, instantly shattering them. "Show me a good fight. Show me your powers. Show me that you aren't like those cheaply produced artificial vampires! Hurry, hurry!"

His rant was abruptly stopped when his head was blown off by an explosive bullet, and Harry grinned as he shot several other bullets at key points on Alucard's body, such as his knees, elbows, and heart, before slightly lowering his now smoking weapon.

The _Fenrir_ was based on blueprints similar to the Jackal, however it was made very differently. First and foremost, a lot of the metal that made it up allowed for magic to be channeled through it, and Harry had personally carved countless runes on it to enhance it far beyond what a normal gun should have been able to do. That wasn't even counting with his meddling on the ammunition, where he had added his own touch as well, though it had taken him months of experimentation to get what he wanted right. Now he could shoot explosive rounds laced with magic, making them five time more powerful, and allowing him to seriously hinder any form of regeneration. It was not a weapon made to incapacitate, it was a weapon of war, made to kill and to maim. His earlier shots had created large holes in the Carrier where they had impacted, and he had once destroyed an entire house by using it and shattering the supporting walls.

As he expected, Alucard's form darkened, shadows dancing and melding together to reform his body as uproarious laughter could be heard, the elder vampire's slowly reforming face stretched into a feral grin as he eyed Harry's now healed form.

"Good, good, GOOD!" he roared, before looking at Harry with anticipation in his eyes. "Show me how a true vampire fights, summon your familiars, hurry, hurry, HURRY!"

By now Harry could easily have fled the Carrier, however he wanted to test himself against Alucard, he wanted to see where he stood compared to the fabled No-Life King. He was not suicidal, however he could disappear whenever he wanted if he felt he was in over his head.

Soon, darkness seemed to creep towards Harry, whose form had become shadowy, his left arm shifting into a very large, pitch black snake with six crimson eyes, the head alone the size of an adult's man head. The Apep was a demon snake whose roots could be traced back to ancient Egypt, one of its' earlier depictions being as the enemy of Ra, the Egyptian Solar deity, and as the Lord of Chaos. Harry, due to the fusion of his soul with the piece of Voldemort's soul that had been stuck in his head, had a very strong affinity with snakes, as such it was not a surprise that his demon familiar was a snake.

A similar thing was happening to Alucard, whose left arm had shifted into a giant wolf-like head with countless eyes. The No-Life King was laughing, his eyes shining with excitement, and, much to Harry's surprise, _respect_.

"Magnificent! Finally, _finally_ a decent opponent! Do not disappoint me, boy!"

With a roar, the two vampires lunged at each other.

**-Break-**

An exhausted Harry stumbled to his bed, spent. He was covered in sweat and blood, and felt like he had been run over by a hundred trucks, but he was grinning widely. His fight with Alucard had been incredible, the older vampire clearly surpassing him in every aspect, yet he had managed to stay alive through all of it, though he had an inkling that the No-Life King had gone easy on him. He had been forced to retreat after a while, since he needed to rest for a few hours as the assault on London was in half a day at most. Luckily he didn't need more than four hours of sleep to recover, he could even have stayed awake and drunk the blood of a few people to recover, but he preferred to rest a bit. He had only been a vampire for less than two years, he had yet to develop the reflex of gorging himself on blood to recover.

He had seen the disappointment in Alucard's eyes as he left, and he felt oddly happy that the vampire had seemed to acknowledge him as a worthy opponent. He had not been scolded by the Major, surprisingly, who had merely grinned and congratulated him on his performance while the Doctor had _hugged_ him for having gone toe to toe with the No-Life King himself and survived, it meant he was _that_ close to perfecting the process of creation of artificial vampires.

So tired that he was, he didn't notice Rip lunging at him and crushing him into a hug as she showered his face with kisses.

"_Danke, danke, danke, danke...Mein Held, danke, Vielen Dank!_"

He could feel tears on her cheeks, either from happiness that she was still alive after facing Alucard, or because he had come back alive, he didn't know, and he didn't quite care. From what he had seen of her fight with the vampire, she had been terrified out of her wits, so he guessed that crying was a natural reaction to being alive after she had expected to be _eaten_ alive.

So tired that he was, he missed Rip taking a step back and feverishly taking off his blood-covered clothes, her hands roaming his body as if to make sure he was there, with her, alive (sort of), and well. What he _did not_ miss was when _she_ began to take off her clothes, her cheeks flushed.

Stopping her as he held her wrists, he looked at her confusedly. After all, while it would hardly be the first time he saw her naked, she was never this enthusiastic about taking off her clothes, since she had always been rather shy about her body. So to see her taking off her clothes as if she couldn't get naked fast enough was a first for him, and his tired brain was trying to comprehend just _what_ was happening. Moments ago he had been fighting for his life, and while the adrenaline was starting to wear off, his brain was still trying to catch up with what had happened.

"Rip?" he asked, his voice croaking due to the dryness of his throat after fighting in the middle of a fire. "What are you doing?"

His answer was to have the artificial vampire pushing him on his bed, straddling him as she shoved her tongue in his mouth, her hands holding his own as she moaned. Finally, after several minutes of intense kissing, she broke the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting their mouths as her deep blue eyes peered into his mismatched ones.

"Zhank you, Harry. Zhank you so much for saving me...I want to zank you properly for vhat you did..."

There was a look in her eyes that he couldn't quite replace, but his instincts were telling him that if he tried to refuse her, not only would he hurt her deeply, but he would also be spitting on her honor as a Werewolf. They were a very close-knitted group, and though most wouldn't shed a tear for the others if they came to die, that didn't mean they wouldn't go to great lengths to protect their comrades if they could.

Still, it didn't sit well with him. While he enjoyed having sex, like any hormonal male did, he was very tired, and he didn't _want_ to have sex just for the heck of it. At the moment, having sex with Rip felt like he was somehow using her gratitude. While most of the time he didn't care much, as he had already raped many women without caring about their consent at all, Rip was the closest thing he had to _family_, and he didn't _want_ to use his family.

"Rip..." he whispered, their enhanced hearing allowing the both of them to hear his words perfectly, "Are you sure? I don't want to use you after you just survived facing Alucard..."

He was silenced when the Werewolf put a finger on his lips, smiling gently, something he had scarcely seen. He _had_ seen her grin, smirk, smile sadistically or happily, but _this_ kind of smile was a first.

"Shhh...I _vant_ zhis, Harry. You have no _idea_ how much I vant zhis."

The following gesture made him widen his eyes comically, as she leant over him, brushing her long raven hair away to allow him access to her neck.

"Rip..."he nearly choked, " Are you _really_ offering me what I think you are?"

Her small, shy nod was all the confirmation he needed, though the implications of her actions made his head spin. She was allowing him to drink her blood. His vampiric instincts recognized the gesture for what it was, a show of complete submission, as well as an _incredibly_ intimate action. Vampires only ever let their own thralls drink their blood, and even then it was only once, to allow them to grow from mere thralls to true vampires. To have a vampire offer to let you drink their blood outside of these circumstances meant that they basically offered _everything_ to you, from the last drop of their blood to their very _soul_.

While Alucard had an _extremely _large reservoir of souls to rely on, he highly doubted the No-Life King had even had a _single_ vampire offer to let them drink their blood, that was how intimate the gesture was.

"Do it..."she whispered.

Hesitantly, be brought his lips close to her neck, and licked her skin, making the ravenette moan. This was the last straw for him, as his fangs grew and he bit down on the offered neck with a growl, Rip's arms snaking around his shoulders to hold her upright.

He greedily gulped down the rich, crimson blood flowing through her veins, memories flashing through his eyes, memories of a young girl growing up in Germany between the two World Wars, memories of a girl who loved to sing, who spent countless hours working her voice until she surpassed many professional opera singers. Then other memories came, memories of the rise of a charismatic leader, a man who preached the superiority of the Germans over the other races, a man who gave her back the pride of being German, despite her country having lost the first World War. He saw her learn her sharpshooting skills, her glee as she joined the SS, the thought that she would contribute to make a better world.

Then came the defeat, the crushing defeat at the hands of a fourteen-years old Walter C. Dornez, slaughtering her comrades, helped by a grinning young girl. The humiliation of having to flee to South America and hide like criminals, when all she had ever wanted was to make a better world, even if the methods Millennium used were barbaric at best. Years of living hidden, of honing her skills, with little fun to have, save for the occasional elimination of local criminal groups.

_His_ arrival, a seven-years old child with beautiful mismatched eyes, whom she immediately took a liking to. Years of watching him grow, from an unnaturally thin boy to a thin, but toned teen, with powers that left her in awe. His offer to help her better her skills, improve her musket. The way he took care of her weapon, her closest companion for more than seven decades. The first time they had sex together, her _first_ time, even if she didn't tell him so, opting to say that the last time she had slept with a man was when she was still human to avoid the awkwardness. The growing feelings for him, despite the fact she knew he would likely not be able to return them, having no notion of what love even was. Her pride at seeing how powerful and confident he had become, the bitterness of not being able to tell him her feelings, by fear that the Major would use her feelings against her, and the fear of being rejected. Her giddiness as she helped him deal with the ones responsible for placing him with abusive relatives, and her anger at the idea that said relatives still lived in peace. Then the evil glee at the idea that she would make them _pay_ during the attack on London, thanks to _him_, who had made her a way to retreat should she ever be faced with Alucard. Her _terror_ at the sight of the grinning, crimson clad figure who had come to kill her, to separate her from _him_. _His_ appearance as he stood between the No-Life King and her, and _his_ admittance that he had come to save her because he had _wanted_ to. The elation at the thought that her feelings might not be only one-sided, just before she disappeared. Her panic as she realized that he was still facing Alucard, as she rushed to the command room, only to witness him fighting on par with Millennium's most powerful foe, just before he came back. Her determination to give herself to him, body, mind, and _soul_, both to thank him for what he had done for her and because she selfishly wanted to stay with him forever.

He broke the connection as he stopped drinking, using his magic to speed up the already fast regeneration as he looked at Rip with wide eyes, the female vampire looking at him with clear adoration in her eyes.

"You..._love_...me?" he asked, his throat suddenly dry despite the copious amount of blood he had gotten from her.

A chuckle answered him as Rip finally took off her unbuttoned shirt, leaving her clad in only her pants and a grey sports' bra. She then gently grabbed his chin, and proceeded to give him the most loving kiss he had ever gotten. She obviously knew she didn't need to confirm anything, her blood had given him every information he needed to know what she truly felt for him, but the concept that someone actually _loved_ him was so alien to him that he had trouble comprehending it. Liking, that he could understand, as he _liked_ Schrödinger as a friend, and most of the Werewolves as well, but the idea of _love_ was not something he had _ever_ thought of.

Rip had apparently sensed his confusion, as she pushed him on the bed gently, whispering:

"Zhis time, it's _my _turn to do somezing for you, Harry..."

The next two hours were a blur to him, a blur filled with moans of ecstasy, sweaty bodies moving against each other, and sweet pleasure, different from what he usually felt from the times he had had sex with Rip.

**-Break-**

"Rip?" he asked, enjoying the feeling of peace following his release.

"Mmmm?" blearily asked the vampire, snuggled up to him, her legs intertwined with his own, and her hands on his chest.

"Thank you."

He didn't even need supernatural powers to know that she was grinning broadly. They may be monsters, but now they had each other, and they would _kill_ anyone trying to take that from them.

**-Break-**

Harry and Rip stood, watching as London burnt, the screams of the dying echoing with the sound of gunfire and the moans of the Ghouls that had already begun to get back up, forming groups of undead figures zeroing on the closest survivors to devour them. The night air was thick with the smell of fire and burnt flesh, while the fires illuminated the night with a flickering, orange light, giving everything a surreal air.

Zorin had already left to lead the assault on Hellsing Manor, the muscled woman grinning with anticipation at the idea of finally being able to get back at the Organization for Millennium's defeat at the end of World War II. Harry knew in his heart that the odds of her managing to indeed kill all those present were about even, as Seras Victoria was present. While so far he had been unimpressed with her performance, she was still Alucard's fledgling, and if Zorin played with her before killing her, it was very possible that she would _finally_ shed her last shred of humanity, making her an incredibly dangerous foe.

The other members of Millennium, save for a few, were down in the streets, slaughtering every Brit they could find and drinking their blood. The only ones left were the _Deus Ex Machina_'s crew, as well as the Major and the Doctor. Schrödinger was nowhere to be seen, though he guessed that he was currently spying to make sure the Major's plans went on without a hitch, while the Captain had vanished, his mission to fetch Walter and bring him to the Doctor so that he could finally _officially_ join Millennium.

As for Rip and him, the Major had told them that they were free to do whatever they wanted, since Rip had accomplished her mission by luring Alucard on the Carrier, and he himself would be of no use to the Major's plans now. The main objective of the plan was to have the No-Life King absorb the blood and lifeforce of all those that had died, with Schrödinger adding his own blood to the mix. Since it would mean that he would then get the cat-boy's powers but that he wouldn't be able to control them, he would fade from existence, or at least that was the theory. So now there was no need for him to stay around anymore, or Rip for that matter. They had already fetched their possessions, Harry checking on with the Doctor to make sure that the man had already packed everything he would need to take once Millennium went down, and had helped him until only the tools necessary to make Walter an artificial vampire were left.

Gazing at the burning inferno that London had become, Harry then turned towards Rip.

"Ready to kill some _pigs_?"

Her grin was wide, and _evil_.

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**Hope you liked.  
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**For those who might complain about the pairing, I will say this:  
**

**1-Rip is the most likely to be interested in Harry, as she is at heart a carefree woman (save for when she goes into Psycho mode), and someone whom I could seriously see interested in a relationship. At first, she did treat Harry like a little brother, but I hardly see why her feelings couldn't change as Harry grows.  
**

**2-Harry is someone who doesn't have the slightest clue about what the signs of someone interested in him would be. He doesn't even know what love is, as he was never shown any as he grew up, and his life makes it quite hard for him to even understand the feeling. He was treated like shit by the people who _should_ have loved him, and Millennium wasn't exactly an organization preaching love and peace. So don't expect him to declare his undying love for Rip. He cares for her a great deal, true, but he doesn't love her.**


	5. Chapter 5-The Battle of London

**And here comes the fifth chapter of _Monsters and Humans_!**

**Just so those who are interested may know, the next chapter of the Bloody Ashikabi should be out before the end of next week.**

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**I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter**

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**05**

**The Battle of London**

Harry smirked as he watched Rip torture the Dursleys. It was _wonderfully_ cathartic to see the people responsible for the years of Hell he had gone through as a child being given their just desserts.

As he had expected, neither of the Dursleys had changed much over the years. Petunia was still the same horse-faced, stuck-up bitch she had been, the only difference being that she looked older, and had an even bigger holier-than-thou attitude that she had when he had still been around, which was quite the feat. He _did_ remember her commenting with Vernon how their neighbors were good-for-nothing people, trying to imitate them, to copy their "hard work" and lifestyle, when in truth, it was easy to see that _they_ were the ones trying to appear normal. He had been quite surprised when he had seen that the flower beds were still well-kept, since he didn't remember any of his _relatives_ showing any aptitude for gardening, and that he had been the one to take care of the flowers.

Vernon hadn't changed much, either, only getting a few white hairs here and there, and probably a few pounds, though Harry couldn't be sure, considering that the man had already been vastly overweight the last time he had seen him. In fact, it was a mystery to him how the man was still alive, as his lifestyle, coupled with the extremely short and nasty temper of his, should have killed him in his forties. Though perhaps at some point he had _tried_ to eat healthier, and that had prolonged his short life?

Dudley wasn't much better than his father now, though unlike the elder Dursley, he seemed to have fat mixed with some actual muscles, but Harry highly suspected that the only reason he even practiced a sport at all was because his parents had insisted on it, and he was almost sure that they had done so on the doctor's prompting. It was highly obvious to him, that had his _cousin_ kept up with the lifestyle he had as a child, that he would have died young. He could tell from where he was that the boy's arteries were still clogged, and that only his new, healthier life prevented him from having a heart attack.

Rip was currently grinning as she inserted toothpicks in Dudley's fingers in front of his bound parents, who were also silenced thanks to a simple spell. The teenager had already had his nails ripped off his fingers, and was weeping, unable to move since Harry had cast a body-bind on him. He _might_ have been a child simply doing what he could to please his parents when he had been bullying Harry, but he had had seven years to learn that what he did was wrong, and it had been obvious that he had _enjoyed_ beating Harry to a pulp whenever he could. So neither vampire felt compelled to leave him out of the loop.

"Well then," yawned Harry as he got up and lifted the silencing spell, "time to get a bit more serious."

"-YOU FREAK, I'LL HAVE YOU THROWN IN JAIL FOR THIS!"

"- STAY STRONG DUDDYKINS, STAY STRONG, THE COPS WILL COME SOON!"

"SHUT UP!" roared the black-haired vampire-wizard, effectively shutting both Dursleys up.

"W-who are you? What did we ever do to you, damn freaks!" whimpered Vernon, only to howl in pain as Harry crushed his right leg effortlessly.

"Who I am?" he asked, with a bloodthirsty grin, "Why, you don't recognize me? I would have thought that you'd be happy to see me again, after all these years, but I guess it can't be helped."

Grabbing Petunia's hair, he used it to lift her head, until she was staring at his mismatched eyes.

"Hello, _Aunt_ Petunia." he smiled, his fangs catching the light ominously.

He was pleased to see the woman widen her eyes comically as she began to shake, having finally understood just who he was, and what he was there for.

"F-freak?" she asked, her voice trembling, just before she was backhanded into the wall with a cry, Vernon crying out while Dudley whimpered in Rip's hands.

"My name is not _freak_, Petunia dearest. My name is Harry James Potter, something you'd better remember." he hissed. He couldn't believe that even now, when her entire family was at his mercy, that she would be callous and stupid enough to actually call him a _freak_. While he couldn't deny that he was a monster now, back then he had been nothing but an innocent child, one that hadn't understood _why_ he was being punished for things he had no control over, and her nickname for him just showed how bigoted and narrow-minded she and her family had been.

Seeing the woman who had made his childhood Hell as she ordered him around like a slave, shrieking that he was a good-for-nothing, a freak that should be happy that they were willing to take him in, ready to soil herself in fear almost made up for her slip of the tongue. Almost.

"Now then, a few things have come to my attention in the last decade, and some of them have made me quite angry with you and your family." he smiled, a humorless smirk that promised untold pain on his lips. "Now, answer my questions honestly, and I _might_ feel inclined to kill you quickly and painlessly, instead of letting Rip torture you to death."

"Y-you can't do that! The government..." she whimpered, her horse-like face pale and sweaty.

"The government is too busy trying to save their asses while our friends are burning London to the ground and murdering civilians to care about you, I'm afraid." was his reply, and he was pleased when Vernon's eyes flickered to Rip's pendant, the swastika catching the light ominously.

"Do I have your attention then? Good. It has come to my attention that you have lied to me concerning my family, and I would like to know why? Was it because you were ashamed that I could use magic and not you?"

He was impressed when Vernon turned an ugly puce color but didn't say anything, as he had half-expected him to react violently to the "M-word". It was impressive, really, to see just how far his loathing for anything that he considered abnormal could go, and he idly wondered what would have happened had Dudley been a wizard, since his mother was related to a rather powerful witch, Lily Potter née Evans. Would he have treated him like dirt as well, or simply divorced Petunia and vanished? Probably the latter, he mused, since he would have considered his wife responsible for Dudley's "freakishness".

"It was unnatural!" spat Petunia, with a look of distaste. "My sister could do abnormal things, that nobody should be able to do! So when you were given to us, I swore that I would make sure that you would become a proper man, not one of those lunatics waving sticks! If it took us being harsh with you to get you to be normal, then so be it!"

"Oh, really? And the fact that you took me in despite not wanting anything to do with me didn't have anything to do with the money you were given _monthly_ to make sure I was well-cared for?"

Petunia and Vernon paled even further, and Harry didn't even need to read their minds to know that they were panicking. They had never told him anything about it, and had probably expected him to not know about it, but the Goblins had proved most informative. To say that he had been angry when he had learnt that his relatives had gotten two thousand pounds _a month_ to take care of him, and had _never_ spent _any_ of the money on him, was like saying the sun was hot. He could have accepted that they hated him, even if it was for stupid reasons, but _stealing_ from him? Now _that_ was something he wouldn't let them get away with.

"It wasn't...I mean we never..." stuttered the terrified woman, shaking like a leaf.

"You _never_ spent any of the money you got to raise me on me, not only that, but you lied to make sure the money kept coming in even _after_ you sold me." he smiled, a cheerful smile that sent shivers down the spine of those present (though in Rip's case it was for different reasons than the Dursleys). "It seems that you will be needing some _disciplining_, Petunia, Vernon. And don't think for _one moment_ that I will easy on you because we are supposedly related. You made it clear that you don't care about that."

As he spoke, the shadows in the room started to twitch and writhe as if alive, and countless crimson eyes could be seen staring at the terrified family.

**-Break-**

Harry hummed as he left the house where he had spent his first seven years of life, Rip at his side looking just as contented as he was as she twirled her musket like a cheerleader did her stick. Their clothes were devoid of any traces of blood, despite the fact that the living room and the kitchen of the house they had just left were _caked_ with chunks of meat, bone, and quite literally _painted_ with blood. The biggest part of the Dursleys left to identify them were body pieces a few inches big at most.

Of course, before murdering the normal-worshipping family, they had made sure to properly express their distaste over the way Harry had been treated, by using both Muggle and Magical means of torture. They could have simply used the _Cruciatus_, well Harry could have, but he had felt that their actions deserved a bit more than simply the torture curse. That is why he had made sure to thoroughly _destroy _them, their bodies, their pride all but gone at his hands. He had tortured them until they were on the brink of insanity, and then kept them sane as he continued to strip everything from them until there was nothing left.

While some self-righteous idiots would have said that it brought him nothing, at the moment he could say with absolute certitude that it _had_ brought him something, a feeling of great accomplishment and utter bliss at seeing people he _loathed_ get their just desserts, at seeing the prideful Dursleys reduced to nothing more than _animals_ groveling at his feet for the relief of death. However, thanks to his knowledge of the Dark Arts, he could say with confidence that the afterlife would he anything _but_ pleasant for them. He didn't know _exactly_ what it brought, but the part about getting judged was true at least, and he very much doubted that the Dursleys would be found worthy of a peaceful afterlife, if anything he expected them to be tortured for all of eternity for their crimes against him.

"So, vhat do ve do now, Harry?" asked Rip, looking eager for more bloodshed.

"I guess we return to London, to see how things are going. If need be, we may have to give a hand." he shrugged, before the both of them vanished in a swirl of shadows.

**-Break-**

They reappeared in the streets of London, bathed in an orange light from the fires currently devouring the buildings. The roads were covered in upturned vehicles, pieces of rubble, and the corpses that had been either killed by something else than Millennium's soldiers or were too damaged to become Ghouls. The air was thick and heavy with smoke, while screams, sounds of gunfire and explosions could be heard, as Millennium's troops shot down every person trying to resist them.

"Mmm...Zhis is nice." commented Rip, as she inhaled the scent of smoke, fire, burnt flesh and death, and from her memories he knew she was feeling nostalgic of World War II, since the scent reminded her of the few battlefields she had seen during that time.

As he let her enjoy her reminiscences, he expanded his senses as he sent small magic pulses, trying to see if there was anything for them in the area they had arrived. After all, he highly doubted that artificial vampires, created from war veterans, would need much help with civilians and a few cops, especially considering that the Major had bribed a few high-ranking officers in the military and police with promises of eternal life. As such, the resistance would be mostly uncoordinated, made up of the few men and women who were left, and who would probably fall under the waves of Ghouls who would undoubtedly swarm them.

He was surprised to feel a group of people still alive about three blocks from where they were, especially as he could tell that they were swarmed by Ghouls and yet didn't seem to have too much problems with them.

"Somezing wrong, Harry?" asked Rip, her musket on her shoulders.

"Yeah, we got a few survivors around three blocks in that direction." he explained, pointing towards where he could feel the group. "They seem to be resisting the Ghouls quite well."

"Vell zen," grinned the young woman, "vhy don't ve help ze Ghouls?"

"Why not?" he shrugged. For the moment they had nothing to do, as quite frankly all there was left for them to do was make sure the Doctor got out the battle alive and well with his research, since the Major had told them they were free to do as they wished.

Launching themselves at the buildings, the ran up their sides, easily jumping from building to building by avoiding the collapsed rooftops and façades, eventually arriving at a large plaza. A single look to the group of people was enough for Harry to know that they were wizards, after all no sane person would dress in heavy robes when they had to fight Ghouls and vampires. Still, from what he could see, they were doing quite well despite their small number, only a dozen or so, as the plaza was covered in the burnt corpses of Ghouls who had gotten too close to the group.

He could hear the man leading the group barking orders at his subordinates, who were acting with remarkable coordination as they dispatched the undead surrounding them. As he and Rip got closer, the leader suddenly sent a spell their way, which collided with the rooftop they had been on and made it explode. Luckily for them, they had enhanced reflexes and had been able to jump away fast enough to avoid getting any damage.

"Come out, _vampires_!" roared the man, who looked quite like an old lion. Not an old and on-his-deathbed lion, but a veteran predator who had survived in a hostile environment for a long time, with a lot of experience and the skills to make use of it.

Still, he wondered how the man had noticed their presence, and even knew they were vampires, since they had been very discreet and couldn't have been noticed, unless...He grinned. Experienced indeed. Not only were they holding their own against the swarm of Ghouls, but they had also placed wards around the plaza. They weren't of the defensive kind, as defensive wards were complicated and took time to erect, time that they obviously didn't have, but instead wards that were triggered whenever someone entered the area. Not only that, but they could also tell who and _what_ had entered the area, a good idea considering that they probably didn't want to accidentally kill potential reinforcements.

Stepping onto the plaza while he motioned for Rip to stay hidden, the Ghouls immediately stopped and stepped back. While he didn't have much control over their actions, as he hadn't created any of them, Ghouls mindlessly obeyed the strongest vampire in the area if their creator wasn't already using them. This meant that he could pop up anywhere in London and command the Ghouls in the area to do his bidding, as he was by far Millennium's strongest vampire. He _would_ have had trouble doing so if Alucard had been present, but seeing that he was still somewhere at sea, he didn't have to worry about competing with the No-Life King for the control of the undead.

"Halt!" bellowed the leader of the Aurors." By the authority of the Minister of Magic, I order you to withdraw these Inferi and to surrender yourself to our custody! Any other action will be taken as an act of aggression, and we will retaliate with lethal force!"

He scoffed, as he stepped closer to the group of Aurors.

"Typical wizard. Unless you have a few hundred people hidden around here, you are hopelessly outmatched." he pointed out. "Not to mention that your Ministry was full of incompetents last time I was there. There is _no fucking way_ that I'm putting a foot anywhere near that wretched place."

"This is your last warning! Any closer and you will be put down!" warned one of the Aurors, his hand twitching around his wand. His action was mimicked by his companions, who were all sending Harry distrusting glares.

"Seriously? I would have thought that your Ministry had better things to do...Like putting down Voldemort."

He did not immediately understand why the Aurors had paled, however their reactions became clear when countless cracks of incoming Apparitions could be heard. He had actually forgotten that the so-called "Dark Lord" had put a taboo on his name, and that speaking said name aloud was the same as waving a torch in a dark room full of people wanting to kill you.

"DEATH EATERS, INCOMING!" yelled one of the men, just as he parried a bone-breaking hex.

Harry lazily took in the incoming group. Unlike the Aurors, the Death Eaters had come in great numbers, with almost fifty people that he could count at the moment. Not all of them attacked, however, as three figures noticeably stayed behind, two wizards and one witch, one that he recognized as Bellatrix Lestrange. He guessed that they were Inner Circle Members, Voldemort's elite fighters, though why _three_ of them were present was beyond him. He would have thought that the man would have sent only grunts for a first wave, but apparently someone speaking his name was rare enough to warrant a full-scale attack.

"Who was it?" cackled Bellatrix, as she looked at the group of Aurors and at him."Who was the one to call our Lord's name?"

"That would be me." he admitted, instantly drawing the woman's attention despite the fight between the Aurors and her troops right next to him, as he lazily avoided the spells sent his way by the low-ranking Death Eaters or even returning them to their senders.

He had to duck to avoid a hastily sent Dark curse that would have caused his internal organs to undergo necrosis had it hit, and retaliated with his own Dark spell, which the Dark Witch shielded against. Soon, they were in a full-blown duel, each so engrossed in the other's actions that their field of vision was centered solely on them. Death Eater grunts were falling in droves as they were not so lucky in avoiding the powerful spells used, and soon the plaza was silent, the Aurors having survived the assault staring at the ongoing fight in amazement. Bellatrix Lestrange was known as the Dark Lord's most faithful follower, but also as one of the top Death Eaters, someone who had been able to survive a fight against Dumbledore, James and Lily Potter three against one, with little to no damage.

Harry had to admit that he was surprised to see a _human_ hold her own against him, even if he was nowhere near serious. At the moment, he was downplaying his own abilities voluntarily, as he had wanted to see just what had made the Death Eaters so feared during the first war, and he was currently considering that if all Death Eaters had been like the woman currently cackling as she ducked under another of his spells, then Voldemort would have conquered England easily.

As time went by, he begun slowly getting tired of Bellatrix's cackles, babying voice, and taunts, and so, after dodging yet another of her spells, he decided to stop playing around. Disappearing, he reappeared behind the woman, who begun turning around to curse him, unfortunately for her, he was _way_ faster than a normal human, and by the time she had half-turned, he had already grabbed her wand arm, broken it, grabbed her neck, and sunk his fangs inside her flesh. Memories assaulted his mind, but he easily ignored them as they were stored in his own brain while he sucked the woman's blood. Surprisingly, instead of fighting him, she was almost _leaning into_ him, and he realized with a jolt that she was actually _enjoying _herself, just as she moaned in pleasure, confirming his suspicions.

While he was wondering just what was wrong with the woman he was currently bleeding dry, a string of feelings and memories flashed through his head, as if answering his question. It seemed that Bellatrix had always had an obsession with everything Dark, be it the Dark Arts or Dark Creatures, as well as an _extreme_ fetish for power, evidenced by her groveling at Voldemort's feet. The man may have been mad, but there was no denying that he was powerful. The fact that Harry had held his own against her when it was clear that he hadn't even been trying had made her rather interested, and when he had sunk his fangs into her, she had realized that he was a vampire, and a powerful one. As such she wasn't resisting, at _all_, because she accepted him drinking her blood. She knew that by doing so he was actually claiming ownership over her soul, yet she was fine with it. Being able to experience the feeling of being a part of a greater being, one more powerful than her, was just fine with her. That, and a small, very small part of her, the sliver of personality that had belonged to the spitfire she had been when young, was tired of her life. She had tortured and killed, been imprisoned for more than a decade in a prison full of Dementors who sucked out every last bit of happiness from her body, and then had returned to a Dark Lord who had long since lost whatever humanity he had possessed and had become little more than a rabid dog.

Once he finished, he let the corpse of the Dark Witch drop with a wet "thud", as he licked his lips, enjoying the last drops of blood of his willing victim. Looking around, he noticed that the last Death Eaters were fighting the Aurors, the crimson-robed group seeming to have lost little to none of their members, probably due to the fact that they had been fighting grunts. As he turned to look at the other Inner Circle members, he noticed that they were already halfway getting their wands out, to curse him, no doubt having trouble believing that he had managed to kill Bellatrix. With a wave of his hand, they were torn apart by hands made of pure darkness that had come out of their shadows.

He was about to turn back to the Aurors, when he heard a single crack, and he felt his hair stand up on his neck, as he hastily ducked a large snake made of fire, narrowly avoiding being reduced to a pile of smoldering ashes.

He could hear Rip screaming his name as he jumped on a wall and stood, defying gravity as he glared at the Dark Lord Voldemort. The man was exactly like he remembered seeing him in Bellatrix's memories, tall, with a regal bearing, but while the man likely wanted to appear like a charismatic leader, the permanent sneer on his face, as well as his snake-like face, ruined the effect. He had no idea what the man had looked like before, as he highly doubted he had always looked like he currently did, but now his head was eerily similar to a snake's, bald, with slit, crimson eyes, and no visible nose, having to small vertical slits at the place where it would be.

"Well, well, well..."drawled the man, not looking the slightest bit concerned that he was currently surrounded by Ghouls, with only a few of his supporters present. Then again, from what he had glimpsed in Bellatrix's memories, his self-confidence went well over arrogance, but didn't go all the way up to become stupidity. Of course, seeing the general attitude of the magical population whenever Death Eaters were mentioned, and the complete inaptitude of most wizards and witches, he had every right to be this confident in his ability to get out of a fight unscathed.

"Imagine my surprise when I felt Bellatrix's Dark Mark disappear. With Dumbledore and his bird club gone, I didn't think there was anyone left in this country who would be able to defeat her." he spoke, his voice smooth but cold as he eyed Harry critically, especially the smudges of blood on his lips. "A vampire? I thought your kind had agreed to stay out of this war. No matter."

With a flourish, his wand was out and leveled at Harry.

"You have two choices: submit or die here. Choose. Now. You can either die like a dog, or become one of my followers."

Harry's answer was to send a Blasting Hex his way, that Voldemort lazily deflected, though he seemed slightly surprised. After all, it was unheard of for a vampire to be able to use magic, as magic users who turned lost their powers, what they lost in magic being gained in the form of stronger vampiric abilities. He riposted with a purplish spell that smelled of rot and decay, one that Harry deflected towards one of the Death Eaters left, who fell down on the ground, screaming, as his clothes and body started to rot.

Soon, Harry was exchanging a flurry of spells with the Dark Lord, each either avoided, deflected, or redirected to another target, while he did the same with Voldemort's spells.

"I am impressed!" smirked the man, as he conjured lightening to struck the place where Harry had stood seconds earlier. "Not many people have been able to resist me like thiss!"

With a grin, Harry decided to get a bit more serious, as so far their duel, while impressive, wasn't anything special, and could have been seen between Inner Circle members and high-level Aurors. Lifting his right hand, he summoned Fiendfyre, instantly bending it to his will with the barest of resistance from the spell, as it took the form of a sixty foot long snake with crimson eyes made of black and red flames. Voldemort, having seen his action, instantly did the same, creating another snake, roughly the same size, though his own flames were more of a dark green. There were also differences in the appearances of the two snakes, Voldemort's was sleeker, with a larger head, while Harry's was larger, but its' head was better proportioned to its' body, and it had a few protrusions that looked like horns at the back of its' head.

The two magical constructs stared at each other for a moment, and then hissed at the same time, drawing themselves up to their full height as their creators channeled their magic inside them, before lunging at each other.

Soon, the twin snakes were playing an odd game of hit and run, as when one attacked, the other either avoided or deflected the strike, any "injury" made to their bodies healing instantly. With a wave of his hand, Harry summoned smaller snakes and sent them towards his opponent, who upon seeing the danger, blasted them away, only to narrowly duck a Cutting curse sent his way. He retaliated with an overpowered _Bombarda_, that the vampire easily avoided, but reduced a nearby building to rubble.

However, as he continued to trade spells with Voldemort, destroying the surrounding area and forcing the Aurors and Death Eaters to give them a wide berth, Harry felt that something was wrong as an evil grin slowly began to stretch the man's pale lips while a moment ago, he had been snarling angrily, probably furious that Harry resisted him, and just as he avoided another spell, he heard the sound of a heavy object heading his way through the air. For a moment, he thought it was a piece of rubble that Voldemort had somehow charmed to attack him as he moved, however the faint heartbeat discarded that possibility. A transfigured animal, then. One that the Dark Lord expected to distract him long enough to finish him off, the fool.

He didn't even bother turning back, as the sound of a gun being fired reached his ear, as well as an agonized hiss seconds later, just as Voldemort paled and snarled in anger. Unfortunately for him, Harry seized the opportunity, and large hands made of shadow immediately ripped the man's wand out of his wand, snapping it, and immobilizing him. With another wave of his hand, his snake consumed the green one, and disappeared as if it had never existed. Voldemort might have been mad, but Harry knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he certainly wasn't about to let the man's knowledge of the Dark Arts go to waste, even if he much preferred to drink women's blood. He could see that he was trying to free himself, and his shifting told Harry that he had tried to Apparate, but to no avail. He wasn't a fool, he hadn't wanted any of the Death Eaters or Aurors to get away, so he had set anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards around the plaza the moment he had begun to fight.

"Free me, fool!" snarled the man, "I am Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Lord to ever walk the earth! You are nothing!"

With a roll of his eyes, Harry grabbed the man by the neck and sank his fangs in his neck.

**-Break-**

For the twentieth time in the last five minutes, Harry spat on the ground, making Rip giggle. He had outright _vomited_ the moment he had finished drinking Voldemort's blood, as the thing was unbelievingly disgusting. The best comparison he could come up with was as if someone had mixed piss with rotten meat and then made it a drink. He could have stopped the moment he had tried to drink the blood, but he had _wanted_ the man's knowledge, and so had kept going, but the moment he had finished, he had made sure to vomit to appease his heaving stomach. He had known by the man's appearance that he had used a _lot_ of Dark Rituals to empower himself, but he hadn't expected the blood to taste _that_ bad!

The poor Aurors had no idea of what had struck them, as Harry had descended on them like a hungry God, tearing them apart, save for the youngests, that he had grabbed and drained in an effort to get the disgusting taste of the Dark Lord's blood out of his mouth. Still, once he had integrated the memories, he felt disgusted at knowing that he had just consumed the soul of someone willing to split his very immortal _soul_ to pieces in an effort to remain alive, in a diminished, maddened state. At least now, he was truly dead, as a vampire claiming a piece of his soul was the same as claiming his whole soul. If he did ever sacrifice this particular soul, then the destruction would spread to the others pieces, no matter where they were.

"Come on, Harry. It couldn't have been zat bad." giggled Rip, twirling her musket around. She had been the one to shoot the snake that Voldemort had tried to use to corner him, distracting him long enough for Harry to immobilize him.

"You didn't taste it, Rip." he moaned, spitting again. "I swear, that was the most disgusting thing I ever tasted, and I have eaten some heavy shit in my younger days."

As they kept bantering, they looked at the city below. Between the moment Harry had finished with the Aurors and then, helicarriers had dropped countless Vatican soldiers in London, while other helicopters were busy bombing the town, as the voice of Enrico Maxwell blared through loudspeakers, ordering the troops to kill everyone in the name of the Vatican and the one "true faith".

"Zhese guys really are fanatics, aren't zhey?" sighed Rip, as she watched white clad men shoot down a mother and her child, who had miraculously survived both the bombing and the Ghouls.

He shrugged. He didn't like hypocrites much, to be honest. If they wanted to cover the fact that they liked to kill people with pretty excuses, like "they were heretics", or basically "they don't believe in the same God than us", then let them do so. He was quite sure that their afterlife wouldn't be much different from the one of other mass-murderers, no matter how much they believed otherwise. Then again, perhaps God _was_ a jealous, evil bastard, after all the Major had been right : _who_ could guarantee that God was sane?

"Oh well. Let's just sit and enjoy the show, we still have some time before we have to get the Doctor anyway."

**-Break-**

Harry whistled. What he was seeing was a fight the likes of which he wasn't likely to see again anytime soon. Alucard, even now that he had "released" his entire reservoir of souls in the physical world, creating a _sea_ of moaning, blood-soaked humanoid manifestations of their former selves, was still incredibly powerful, even if he was now more vulnerable than ever, having returned to what he once was, a single, ancient, and incredibly powerful vampire without a single soul to sacrifice in his stead should he be mortally wounded.

The No-Life King now looked like the Wallachian nobleman that he had been when he had still been alive, a tall man wearing a dark steel armor with a sword strapped to his waist, with long, black hair, and an aristocratic face with a mustache and a badly shaven beard.

His opponent, Alexander Anderson, apparently understanding that even now that he was "weakened", Alucard wouldn't die if he were to fight him in his current state, had used a holy artifact, Helena's nail, one of the nails used to crucify the Christ, to pierce his heart. Doing such had transformed him some sort of thorn-infested monster, and had noticeably enhanced him, putting him on par with Alucard, despite the opposite nature of their powers.

While Alucard was a "Monster rejected by God", due to his own actions, Anderson was a "Monster of God", an abomination only allowed to exist, only accepted by the deity because its' only purpose, its' _duty_ one could say, was to slay the Monsters conventional means of extermination couldn't hope to defeat permanently.

And now, both Monsters were fighting, and for the first time since he had heard of Alucard, he could see the No-Life King visibly _struggling_. While he would like to believe that the time when he had fought him, that they had been on even grounds, he knew that if the both of them had gotten serious, then _he_ would have been the one to lose. As while he was confident that he could easily deal more damage than Alucard, mostly because he could use magic while the No-Life King couldn't, the elder vampire had _far, far_ too much souls to trade. Even if he had been wounded once every time he destroyed a thousand souls in Hellsing's Ace's reservoir, he would have died long before he had exhausted Alucard's souls.

Of course, Anderson had a noticeable advantage, since from what he could tell, the slightest touch of one of the vines coming from his body was enough to destroy the manifestations of the souls Alucard held, while the No-Life King had to rely on shooting him.

"_Wunderbar_!" clapped Rip, entranced by the battle, her cheeks a rosy pink out of excitement. For someone who loved operas, he guessed that the current battle was a source of awe, as she could probably picture the thing as an opera, with characters singing and dramatic music in the background.

He winced as he watched Alucard's head get impaled by a bayonet, his body starting to combust from the Holy touch.

"Master!"

He had to refrain from grinning as Seras intervened, grabbing the bayonet and wrenching it out of Alucard, all the while calling for him. How ironic for the No-Life King to be saved by the girl he had turned on a whim...She was stubborn, anyone could see that, with the way she kept trying to help her Master despite the Holy vines crawling up her arm, trying to kill her as well, since they clearly recognized her as something to destroy.

_And here he comes_...grinned Harry, as the No-Life King once more opened his eyes, and clearly stated that he refused to die by the hand of someone who had renounced his humanity, just before ripping Anderson's heart out, with Helena's Nail firmly lodged into it, and crushed it.

**-Break-**

This was it. The battle was almost at its' end. Now that Anderson was dead and that the Vatican's troops had retreated (save for the members of Iscariot, but then again, they _were_ fanatics. Not that they could do anything now.), it was down to only Hellsing versus Millennium. On one side, the No-Life King himself, his Draculina (who was no longer someone to scoff at), and Integra Hellsing herself. On the other, a "vampirified" Walter, the Captain, and the Major, the Doctor being just about useless in a fight. Three versus three.

Alucard vs Walter.

Seras vs the Captain.

Integra vs the Major.

He could easily see that Millennium would lose, as Alucard was _much_ stronger than Walter, despite the latter being far stronger than any human had any right to be, even stronger than some natural vampires; Seras was about equal to the Captain, but she could count on the help of those whose blood she had drank, while the silent man was seeking his death, meaning that it was likely that he would give her the means to defeat him; and finally, Integra was a woman of action, she had been trained ever since her father had died to become the Head of Hellsing, and as a woman, she had had to prove that she could bear the responsibility, while the Major, being far older than her, had never been the kind to participate in battle, _and_ from what the Doctor had told him, he also had an incredibly bad aim.

So this was it. The End. The end of Millennium. However, just because he knew _how_ things would end, didn't mean he didn't want to see what would give that result, so he sat on one of the buildings left, Rip at his side, while Alucard fought off Walter, and that Seras and Integra entered the _Deus Ex Machina_. He wasn't worried about them killing the Doctor, the man had an emergency portkey if he ever saw one of the two women heading his way, and he highly doubted that they would seek him out when more dangerous people were still around.

Still, he had to applaud Integra for her mental fortitude. Not many would be able to order their servant to kill a man that they saw as a father and as a friend, the closest thing they had to family in the entire world. This was part of the reason why he respected Integra: unlike the Dursleys, unlike most, she did not try to search excuses for not doing what she had to do. Her family had turned traitor, as such she would have them eliminated, it was that simple. The fact that they were close didn't mean that she would shy away from her responsibilities.

"Well then, let's see how this goes..." he mumbled, getting ready to watch the final act of the greatest battle of this late twentieth century. Thank God the Doctor had thought of having the camera feed from the _Deux Ex Machina_ copied to the databases of their new headquarters. He would have hated to miss the fight between Seras and the Captain, just because he was watching the one between Alucard and Walter.

**-Break-**

It had worked. While "dishonorable" to the extreme, the Major's plan to deal with Alucard had actually _worked_! Where countless armies had failed and fallen, where heroes had failed, where _monsters_ had failed, the Major had succeeded in defeating Alucard. All that was left of the No-Life King was a single seal, like the one he had worn on his gloves, etched in blood on a cobblestone. It would be ridiculously easy to erase said seal and kill off the No-Life King for good, forever condemning him to Limbo, and yet Harry couldn't bring himself to do so. Partly because it would be a waste, the vampire was a true monster, one he wanted to fight again one day, when he had had more time to hone his skills and become more powerful, and also because it wouldn't sit well with him. He couldn't explain it himself, but he felt that the elder vampire deserved a more fitting end, fighting against a human, as he had said himself "_Only a Human can kill a Monster..."_.

He was now waiting for the two women close to the older vampire to walk out of the zeppelin, having already whisked the Doctor away to their new base of operations, the man already getting to work as he read the books on magical theory and Dark Creatures he had provided for him. Rip had stayed with him, saying that he would need someone to guide him around the place, and also, he suspected, because she wasn't comfortable being around Integra or Seras.

The sound of footsteps could be heard, and he watched the two women step out of the _Deus Ex Machina_...or what was left of it anyway. Both seemed tired, not that he couldn't understand. The night had been long for them, and both had lost people dear to their hearts. They hadn't yet noticed him, too drained from their ordeals to properly think of scanning their surroundings.

It was easy to tell _when_ they noticed him, as the darkness around Seras' arm instantly shifted and became a shield for her Master while she took out a gun, her action mimicked by Integra a second later.

"What are you doing here? Going to finish your boss' job?!" spat the Head of Hellsing, and he was surprised by the amount of venom in her voice. Even if he was technically their enemy, _he_ himself had done nothing to them, and Integra was usually able to conceal her emotions better. He guessed that losing two people dear to her heart in the same night, and to the same people, had taken more of a toll on her than he had previously thought, not that he could understand, as he never _loved_ anybody. Even if he understood that Rip felt love for him, he was unable to reciprocate anything beyond affection for her, as he had grown up in a way that would likely forever prevent him from experiencing deep emotions, like love.

"Relax." he said soothingly, "I'm not here to do anything to the both of you, I'm just here to talk."

"Talk?"

Integra's laugh was harsh, and devoid of humor.

"Your friends turned Walter against me. Your _friends_, took my servant from me! We have _nothing_ to talk about! Seras!"

"Aye!" nodded the Draculina, her gun pointed at him and her finger on the trigger.

He rolled his eyes.

"For the love of...I'm not here to have a fight! Besides, your _servant_ is just fine!" he snapped, pointing at the cobblestone, causing both women's eyes to widen.

"What is this?" growled Integra, and it was clear that she was doing her best to refrain herself from shooting him.

"From what I understand, it's some form of anchor. Based on _how_ the Major had him sealed, I _think_ that Alucard used this to anchor himself to this plane of existence, while he tries to find a way to come back. I don't know if there's one, but from what I know of your servant, if there's a way to come back, he'll find it. He wouldn't have survived this long if he wasn't stubborn. Though if he comes back, I don't have any clue about _when_ it'll happen, but I highly doubt it'll be anytime soon."

"Why are you telling us this?" asked Seras, and he could see that she was genuinely confused about why someone supposed to be their enemy was giving them information.

"Like I said, I'm not here to fight. If I had wanted to involve myself in the battle, I would have done so earlier, when my contribution had an actual chance of saving the last people I like being around." he sighed. "To you, they were madmen, but to me, they were the only family that I had, even as twisted as they were. Oh well."

"What did you want to talk about?" cautiously asked Integra, looking rather put off by his presence.

"Nothing much." he admitted, shrugging. "Just wanted to tell you to make sure that the Queen gets her ass moving and starts doing something about the magic users, I've had to defeat that Dark Lord who tried to kill me as a kid again tonight. She really _needs_ to get involved, because if she doesn't, I can say with certainty that there'll be _another_ Dark Lord rising in a few decades, and it's high time that someone cleans the mess that the magical society is, up. Those guys still live in the eighteen hundreds, they don't even know that Man has landed on the Moon, for Lucifer's sake!" he ranted.

_That_ had been bothering him for a while. If someone didn't do something about the magic users, they were going straight into the wall, as their bigoted society would one day or another be discovered, and if they still had the same attitude about non-magicals, then World War II would be a walk in the park compared to what would happen.

He didn't need to be a Seer to know what would happen. The moment the existence of Magic came out, companies and military alike would try their best to get their hands on wizards and witches, the easiest to get being the Muggleborns, and then experiment on them to learn everything they could about Magic, and how to give the same power to other people. Then, if the Magicals refused to bow to the non-magical governments, there would be war, one that would last for a long time, as wizards had homes warded against detection, while Muggles had superior weaponry and could be brutally efficient to get what they wanted. True, he didn't care about other people save perhaps for Rip, but he didn't want his food to be malnourished or sick, and he _certainly_ didn't want to have to fight off attempts on his life, he had better things to do! _And_ he didn't want wars that would prevent him from fighting Alucard and Hellsing again, and he could almost guarantee that if a war broke out between the magicals and non-magicals, they would be _far_ too busy to entertain him.

"We'll...see what we can do." cautiously said Integra, looking rather lost as to why a vampire of all people would want to meddle in how things were run on the magical side in England.

"Good enough for me. Good luck with the reconstruction, and when that guy comes back, tell him I want a rematch." he grinned, as he disappeared.

"...That _had_ to be the strangest discussion I have _ever_ had with a vampire."


	6. Chapter 6-Epilogue-War Anew

**I don't own Harry Potter and Hellsing**

* * *

**Epilogue**

**War anew**

The screams of the dying could be heard through the night, pleas for their life echoing through the burning streets as people ran, crawled, or begged if they could no longer move. Gunfire could be heard, along with the sound of explosions that tore buildings in half, shredded the pavement and turned the people around the area of detonation to bloody smears or for those unlucky enough, to screaming human torches. Blood flowed in rivers from the corpses of the former inhabitants, creating puddles of crimson liquid here and there.

Cackles could be heard as a group of young women wearing black uniforms tore apart a group of policemen who had been trying to protect some civilians, using claws and swords. Some of them then straddled the corpses and the dying, sucking what was left of blood out of them. These were the Valkyries, the only female-only task force of _Höllenhund_. On their left breast they all wore an engraved, silvery depiction of a snarling black dog with glowing red eyes. Depending on the woman, they wore pants or shirt skirts and black leggings, their uniforms designed to allow for maximum freedom of movement.

The leader of the group was a mocha-skinned woman, with oddly colored, silvery-white hair and piercing eyes where a malevolent glee could be seen as she surveyed the area. A giant zweihander was planted into the ground, her two hands holding the handle, ready to use it at a moment's notice. Her own uniform was made of black pants, black combat boots with steel tips, the same top than her subordinates, although above the symbol of their organization, she wore a the gallons of a Lieutenant.

Freya, as she wanted to be called, had not always been the confident woman she was now. She was born somewhere in India from an Indian woman and a white father, who upon learning he had a daughter, had abandoned the both of them. Her mother had struggled to raise her, taking all jobs she could find, even the less savory kind, so long as it brought money that she could use on her daughter. She remembered seeing her mother wither away day after day, until she was a shell of her former self, someone who no longer had the will to live. She had eventually died when Freya was fourteen, condemning her daughter to what would have been a very harsh life had it not been for her benefactor.

He had found her as she tried to steal some food to feed herself, dressed in rags, but instead of a look of distaste as she had expected at the time, he had taken her hand and bought her food. He had then explained to her that he was looking for people like her, who knew how harsh life could be, who would fight for their right to live. She had been naive then, desperate for someone to help her, and had readily accepted his offer after he promised her that she would be given everything she could wish for.

She had never regretted her choice. From that day on, she had been tutored, trained, her body brought to peak efficiency by the people in _Höllenhund_. When her benefactor had finally explained to her _everything_, his goals and objectives, she had been awed. For a girl like her, whose sole ambition had been to be able to live her life moderately well, to be offered to be a part of something greater, she had readily accepted. Why wouldn't she? She owed nothing to mankind, most people were happy to ignore her, the _only_ person who had ever done anything for her was long dead, and more often than not she had been afraid of ending raped in a sordid back alley.

When she had woken up as a vampire, she had been elated, transfixed by her new power. For someone who had been no stranger to physical labor as a child, to feel so much power coursing through her body was staggering, not to speak of her new abilities. Never in all her life had she thought that she, the girl born in poverty and misery, would ever have so much power under her command. It had of course taken her a little while to adjust, as while her more esoteric abilities were things she could control, her increased strength and speed had not been, and she had learnt to be careful to not accidentally destroy things by mistake.

Her nomination to Lieutenant had come as something of a shock to her, as while she had known that she was powerful, she had never realized that she was more powerful than most other artificial vampires. That, and her power was complimented with a sharp mind, while she was also a gifted swordswoman and fighter, or so she had been told, which had made her the ideal candidate for the rank.

She had beamed at her benefactor as he gave her, her new gallons, and had resolved to do her very best to repay him for what he had done for her. Sure, as everyone in _Höllenhund_, she was aware of what his goal was, and while some were slightly uneasy at the idea of following a man who wanted to wage war on mankind and eradicate a large part of the global population, she was not. She had seen what happened when there was too much people for a set amount of resources, and it wasn't pretty.

She was brought back to reality when her second-in-command, a tall, black-haired woman wielding twin European swords, dropped next to her, her mouth still bloody. Hel, as she had chosen to name herself, despite being a very good leader, was also a very bloodthirsty and deranged individual, but she had never had any problems with her.

"Not eating a bit?" asked the swordswoman, as she looked at the destruction they were causing. The town they were currently attacking was situated in France, where exactly they didn't care much, but from what she remembered, they were somewhere close to the sea, not that it really mattered.

"I am not hungry." was Freya's answer.

"Too bad..." shrugged Hel, and she was about to continue when she suddenly ducked, just in time to avoid getting her head blown off.

Immediately, the Valkyries stopped what they were doing and regrouped, drawing their weapons and looking for the threat, that they were quick to find.

Standing atop a building was a tall blonde woman, wearing crimson entirely, with an extremely large gun pointed at them. One of her arms was a writhing mass of darkness, and even from where they were could they sense the power radiating from her. Of course, considering that they had been briefed on just _who_ could be a threat to them, they knew who said woman was.

Seras Victoria, the only one to ever have been bitten by Dracula himself, and had then become one of the most powerful Draculinas ever seen, despite still being bound to her Master. An expert in eliminating vampires, and a powerful one herself, responsible for destroying nearly sixty percent of the British vampire clans when said clans had begun launching attacks on non-magicals.

Freya snarled. Whenever her benefactor spoke about this woman, it was always with a certain fondness, as well as profound respect. She had hated the woman from the beginning, for getting more interest from her boss than her, despite her best efforts. She craved his interest, and yet a traitor to their species gathered more attention and respect from him than she ever did, and she hated that fact. The fact that he was also very close to Rip Van Winkle didn't truly matter to her, she rather liked the older woman, and at least she didn't mind sharing, nor was she working as a simple lapdog for humans. But Seras Victoria was a traitor, a lapdog who hunted her own kind out of some stupid sense of right and wrong.

Oh yes, she was going to enjoy fighting the bitch. Lifting her sword, she roared:

"ATTACK!"

**-Break-**

Harry grinned as he closed his eyes and basked in the darkness coming from the town. He had grown much in the last thirty years, not so much in appearance, as he still favored his teenage looks, but in skill and power. Before the attack on London, he had already been quite powerful for a vampire, ridiculously so for one so young, but now he was probably among the most powerful beings on Earth, if not _the_ most powerful. With Voldemort's knowledge of the Dark Arts, it had been ridiculously easy to find ways to empower himself. To a human, these ways would have caused grievous aftereffects, such as physical deformity, mood shifts or even madness, but as a vampire, his entire being was already steeped in darkness, as such there were no consequences for him.

He had performed Dark rituals that had gifted him with abilities long forgotten, leeched power from leylines to forcefully expand his reserves of power, devoured countless people to absorb their souls, and so much more. Things that were unthinkable for him to even attempt before were now commanded with a lazy snap of his fingers, feats of magic that would have left him a dried husk barely took a drop of his power to perform.

Yet, despite all his self-strengthening, he had not neglected his goal, and had created _Höllenhund_, Hell Hound, his own organization. Unlike Millennium, which had been dedicated solely to taking revenge on Alucard, it was geared on waging war on the entirety of mankind, a feat made possible by the increased level of technology, as well as the liberal use of magic. Not only did he have a large number of troops that he and others had recruited from backgrounds ensuring both their loyalty and their willingness to collaborate to their goal, but he also owned several groups of tanks, destroyers, and combat planes. Each of the vehicles had gotten numerous enhancement through the use of magic, making each virtually indestructible, easy to camouflage, and much more powerful than their standard counterparts.

A single tank could now take out an entire town by itself, destroyers could sink flotillas easily, and combat airplanes could outmaneuver and overpower virtually anything thrown at them. Of course, all of _Höllenhund's_ recruits' weapons had benefitted from magical improvements as well, this coupled with their harsh training made them a force to be reckoned with, even if the total troops of the organization numbered barely above ten thousand.

A cold hand softly trailed on his shoulder, and he smirked as Rip hugged him from behind. Even if he still didn't understand love, he could say that he liked the woman more than anyone else. She had been a constant companion over the last thirty years, and a permanent bed partner as well. Even if the occasional fling with a recruit happened from time to time, at the end she was always the one sharing his bed.

"Ready?" he asked, knowing that she would understand what he meant. She always did.

"As ready as I can, Harry." was her answer, though he could sense that she was slightly apprehensive.

After all, they had launched this attack knowing full well that Hellsing would intervene. While France wasn't their usual playground, thanks to the creation of the EU, things like borders had lost quite some meaning, especially when it came to fighting vampires, as Britain now lent a hand to the other European countries with their vampire problems whenever the Vatican couldn't make it in time. It had been the whole point of choosing a target so close to England, after all, to lure Hellsing there. The Vatican, despite what they thought, were little of a threat to them as things were, since they were still recovering from their failed tenth crusade, and lacked any aces that could put a wrench in his plans.

Hellsing though, they had both Seras, and now, from what his spies had gathered, Alucard as well. It seemed that the No-Life King had finally managed to find a way back from Limbo, though in exchange he had lost quite a few powers. Now that he only had a single soul in his reservoir, he couldn't let out waves of undead like he had three decades ago. Of course, it was a fair tradeoff to get omnipresence as an ability, but still.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the two figures that had emerged from the town. Integra Hellsing had grown old, though she had aged far better than most women, her whole posture still as alert and dangerous than thirty years ago. She now wore an eye patch to hide her destroyed eye, and it gave her a more intimidating air.

Alucard hadn't changed, and was wearing his customary crimson coat, though his guns were different from what he remembered, though that was certainly due to the fact that his former guns had been created by Walter, and were now outdated.

"Potter." greeted the one-eyed woman, holding a sword to her side, a gun in her other hand.

"Integra. Alucard." he nodded, before looking at the blonde. "I'm surprised you're on the battlefield, considering you're the Head of Hellsing, and that we're not even in England."

She shrugged, blowing some smoke from her mouth.

"Eh, not much more to do for me now, they've picked a replacement in case I kick the bucket, so it's not like I can't take some calculated risks. Besides, this is something between you and us, isn't it?"

"Too true. Rip, you take Integra, I take Alucard." he simply said. Why would he need to say more? They were enemies, that was all there was to it. They didn't need any long-drawn conversations or anything like that.

Mismatched eyes stared into dark crimson, and deep blue met turquoise and blue.

Harry shot at Alucard in a blur, closing the distance between them faster than the older vampire could blink, before his arm shot and pierced the man's abdomen, seeking his heart, only for Alucard to disappear and for him to duck a point-blank shot that would have taken his head off. He might be confident in his regenerative abilities, that didn't mean he liked the pain of feeling his head explode.

Twitching his fingers, he conjured a simple iron blade and sliced the crimson-clad vampire's arm off, as he jumped back to avoid a kick that would have shattered his knees. Pushing an arm forward, he watched as Alucard was sent flying into a building, the force of the Blasting Hex making it crumble on top of his opponent. Unfortunately, he had to lean back to avoid another shot from his foe, who had reappeared a few feet away from him with an amused and feral grin on his face.

_It wasn't half as irritating when it was Schrödinger who did that..._

Of course, he had ways to deal with that kind of power, unfortunately most them relied either on ritual circles that he wouldn't have the time to draw, or on ridiculously complicated spells that would take much too long to cast.

_Oh, to Hell with this!_

"Having trouble?" grinned the elder vampire, as his arms shifted and became two large, dark, snarling dog-like heads with multiple eyes staring at him.

Immediately, he summoned Fiendfyre, just in time to avoid having his head bitten off by the demonic familiar, who upon making contact with the fire, howled in pain as it burnt. His smirk was wiped off when his left shoulder exploded, drawing a scream of pain from him, Alucard having used his familiar as a mere distraction. Darkness coalesced and he flexed his new arm, as good as new, before lifting said arm and creating hundreds of flying wooden stakes that flew at his opponent who was no longer smirking. Omnipresent or not, a wooden stake to the heart would cause unimaginable pain to a vampire, worse than the _Cruciatus_ curse, and also took far longer to heal than a normal injury.

He had to duck as the barrel of a canon appeared inches away from his face, the bullet grazing the right size of his face and creating a hole in the ground behind him. Grabbing the hand holding the gun, he placed a hand, palm open, on Alucard's stomach, and channeled a flesh-eating curse into the elder vampire. While his regeneration would eventually get rid of the curse, it would take him a few minutes to do, minutes during which almost all of his energy would be spent containing the decay of his body and regenerate what _had_ rotten. He then blinked and looked down at the gun on his stomach.

"Oh sh-..." he muttered, just as an explosive round destroyed most of his internal organs, muscles, a part of his spine and basically cut him in two, causing his top half to fall on the ground during the time it took for tendrils of darkness to spring from both parts of his body and connect them again, re-growing his insides.

While he was regenerating, he watched as Alucard took a few steps back as he held his stomach with a grimace. Having the feeling that your body was rotting from the inside out wasn't very pleasant, after all, and while he had plenty of experience getting cut, stabbed, dismembered or shot, Harry doubted that he had experienced having his insides starting to undergo necrosis while he was still conscious. Still, he was having fun, though he was actually going easy on Alucard. Unfortunately, he couldn't exactly use his more powerful spells or abilities, since it would do him little good, as since his opponent was omnipresent, he would simply reappear in perfect condition no matter what he did.

Deciding that he had played around enough, he discreetly channeled his magic to create small shadowy creatures that he imbued with strong notice-me-not charms as he sent them to complete the task which they had been created for.

Turning back to Alucard, he prepared himself for another round.

**-Break-**

An exhausted Harry sat on the head of a destroyed statue, a cigarette in hand as he blew out a cloud of smoke. He had finally managed to get rid of Alucard, but damn had it been hard! He had had to create a ritual circle without the vampire noticing, then lure said vampire inside, keep him there for the _entire_ duration of the ritual, pour enough power in said ritual to forcefully overpower an ancient and extremely powerful vampire, and finally win a battle of wills with said vampire as he was slowly snuffed out of existence. That had certainly been the hardest thing he had ever done, and it had taken its' toll on him, mentally at least. It would be a while before he would be able to properly concentrate on things without feeling the phantom pain of mental fingers gripping his mind in a bid to force him to stop the ritual.

Next to him, Rip was sitting as well, her clothes rustled and at some places cut off, her musket next to her as she breathed heavily. He was honestly surprised that Integra had managed to give so much trouble to the vampire, after all she was human, and past her prime, yet had still managed to cause some serious damage to Rip. It was only because he had used his knowledge in magic to make her more resistant than normal vampires that she had escaped unscathed, otherwise she would be missing a few limbs permanently.

He had also received word that Seras had been defeated as well, easier than her Master at least. After all, all his forces had had to do, was to kill her enough time to have her exhaust her reservoir of souls, and considering her kind nature, he had doubted that she would have much, and he hadn't been wrong. Still, she had cost him a good sixty percent of the Valkyries, as well as a few other units, which was more than what he had expected. Even if his foot soldiers weren't as powerful as him, they were no slouches either, yet Seras had managed to kill quite a few of them. Oh well. She was dead, it was all that mattered, though he would make sure that all three of Hellsing's top dogs were properly honored, as they _had_ been interesting foes.

The sound of a helicopter made him frown and look up. Last he remembered, he did not own any helicopters, he didn't need them. So it wasn't much of a surprise when said helicopter sent a few missiles his way. With a lazy wave of his hand, said missiles were sent back to the helicopter, which exploded and then proceeded to crash somewhere to his right. Harry couldn't help it, he snickered, his snickers soon turning to a full-blown laugh. It was just so _easy_ to crush humans, just like stepping on some ants! Now that he had dealt with Hellsing, he didn't have to worry about anything, the Vatican were still far too weak to even oppose his army, and a good bombing should be more than enough to deal with most of their forces.

Nuclear warfare? What good would it do to the world's leaders, since all of his forces could use portkeys to change locations as soon as missiles started homing on their position? And even if his army was low in numbers compared to the combined might of the entire world's military, by the time the leaders finally managed to work together, they would have lost already. And even then, if by some miracle they somehow managed to be a threat to him, he would simply kill them or use their families against them.

Standing up, he sent a pulse of Dark Magic, a signal to his forces that they could gather in front of him. Soon, dark silhouettes landed, forming rows of people with glowing red eyes. They were _everywhere_, in the streets, standing on the rubble, on the surrounding buildings, covering the rooftops, some were even standing on the walls of the few buildings that hadn't yet collapsed. All of them were his subordinates, fanatically loyal and trained to be the ultimate killing machines on Earth.

"Tonight," he started, his voice carrying an undeniable authority through the night, "we have taken the first step towards our goal. Tonight, we had shown mankind that humans are not the ultimate power on Earth. Tonight, we have written _history_!

All of you were in one way or another, victims of mankind. You were poor, people stepped all over you because you didn't deserve their attention. You were sick, you weren't anything to society. NO MORE! Tonight, you have shown the world that you are more than they will ever be, that you are greater than any human will ever hope to be!

From now on, mankind will fear us! They will fear the dark, for they will know that one day we will come for them! This is the start of a new era, one that will see all of you taking your rightful place, the one you were denied for so long!" he finished with a flourish, and he was rewarded when screams of "Heil Potter!" started, soon all the vampire present were chanting.

"Heil Potter!"

He grinned, standing atop a pile of rubble, Rip standing next to him with a grin as she held her musket. The sky was clear, and a large, full moon that looked as if it had been dyed crimson could be seen, its' light basking everything in an ethereal glow.

"Heil! Heil! Heil"

A sadistic grin made its' way on his face. After so long, he was finally going to be able to get his revenge on mankind.

* * *

**And this is the end of Monsters and Humans. I want to thank all those that followed, favorited, or reviewed this story. Thanks everyone!  
**

**For those who want to know about when the next chapter of the Bloody Ashikabi will be out, I'd say tomorrow or the day after that at most.**


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